


A Worthy Mech

by gingerninja93



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Forced Marriage, Harems, Imprisonment, M/M, Miscarriage, Restraints
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:08:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 19
Words: 39,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25866460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingerninja93/pseuds/gingerninja93
Summary: The War over, Optimus Prime returns a hero but things are far from over. The Decepticons are still out there and angry without their leader. Something is brewing along the borders with old enemies. And Optimus Prime is about to learn that the Autobots are far from clean. Ordered unwillingly into Ultra Magnus's harem to carry his heir, serving alongside his an old friend, Rodimus Prime and Sentinel Prime (who knows how to explain their messed up relationship), things are about to get complicated. Oh, and he's getting weird dreams. None of this can be good.
Relationships: Former Blurr/Longarm Prime | Shockwave, Former Longarm Prime | Shockwave/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime/Sentinel Prime/Ultra Magnus, Optimus Prime/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime/Sentinel Prime/Ultra Magnus, Optimus Prime/Sentinel Prime
Comments: 54
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

“We need an heir for Ultra Magus,” 

The council sat, the simple statement one they had all been dancing around. Megatron was captured now and behind bars but there was only so long they could keep him. The Decepticon army was not defeated just because their leader was in chains. It was only a matter of time until someone broke him out. Killing him would only make matters worse so for now, the con was in high security. Ultra Magnus was heavily injured, but functioning. It wouldn’t take much for someone to try to use their weakened leader against him. 

“I see,” Sentinel not surprised by this announcement. He stood tall, despite the fact only orns beforehand they had stripped him from the rank of acting Magnus. Being called to the council chamber had been a surprise, but those words explained everything. 

They needed an heir to take on the role if Magnus expired. Ultra Magnus was awake currently. Sentinel had already enjoyed his loving attentions that day, his value aching comfortably. Sparking an heir was a little more complicated than just a good fragging, unfortunately. Especially one with CNA from Ultra Magnus of all mechs. To be able to carry their leader’s heir, the bot would need to be a Prime at the very least. Next, there were requirements for personality traits, skills and more. The carrier of the heir could not just be any random Autobot with a fertile valve. 

“You are here to stand as the harem representative.”

Sentinel nodded grimly. That had been expected too. To keep the Magnus healthy, certain higher ranking Primes were expected to attend to his needs. Three Primes served as the Ultra Magnus’ harem. Sentinel, Rodimus and until every recently the traitorous piece of slag that was Longarm. Sentinel pushed further thoughts from his mind. The unmasked Shockwave was in chains with the rest of the captured scum. 

It didn’t stop the obvious facts, however. Of the three serving Primes, one was a traitor, Rodimus was recovering from the plague and Sentinel… Sentinel may not be in the council’s best wishes at the moment, but that was not why they were ignoring the idea he could spark. He had sparked, several times in fact but none had survived long enough to emerge. The previous time, the medics had declared that it was too dangerous for him to try again. His spark twinged at that, and he rubbed his chest calmly as the council listed the traits that a good carrier should have. 

Loyal. Sentinel had been nothing but loyal. Loyalty meant accepting serving Ultra Magnus in the berth was as natural as ordering his orders on the battlefield. He hadn’t wanted to be apart of the harem but if it was what he needed to do to climb the ranks, well, he did it. He wished Rodimus was here. The bot was resting in a medical breath next to Ultra Magnus. Sentinel was responsible for both lovers at the moment.

“Sentinel Prime!”

“Yes, Sirs,” Sentinel forced himself to come back too, aware of the judging looks on the council members. He’d drifted off. 

“Do you have any candidates you would like to offer?” Perceptor asked, the emotionless bot, looking at a screen of potential Primes. 

Sentinel shook his head, looking at the images with something uncomfortable bubbling in his stomach. “No one in particular,” he stepped forward and walked towards the console, carefully dividing the mechs up into three groups. The flat out ‘Nos’, the ones to consider and those who were contenders. Sentinel knew what kind of mechs Ultra Magnus liked and there was no point to any of this if the old mech couldn’t get it up. A handful of mechs went into the Nos, the council murmuring with disapproval at the blanket rejection of honourable Primes based on something as superficial as their looks. 

He paused on Optimus’s image. Ultra Magnus found the mech attractive. Under that criteria, Sentinel couldn’t reject him. Rodimus did too and Sentinel still had a few vid files from their time together as cadets. He put Optimus in the considering pile. He continued, flicking Primes to the categories easily before pausing again. 

“Some of these Primes are bonded,” Sentinel realised. “Is this a mistake?” Please let it be a mistake. It was bad enough they were going to be forcing a mech into the harem instead of the traditional courting. Taking a loyal Autobot away from their sparkmate? 

“Would this be a problem?” Perceptor enquired, lens focusing on Sentinel. “We are not asking much. They only need to remain within the harem until an heir is born. Then they may return to their partners.”

Leaving a Prime potentially leaving betrayed by their leaders and vulnerable to Decepticon whisperings. Sentinel bit his tongue. A new trick Ultra Magnus was training him in. Keeping his mouth shut unless it was something dire. That was a risk regardless of who was chosen. Not every Autobot was going to be happy to climb into the bed of their leader and get sparked up. Separating a mech from his sparkmate was a line Sentinel felt reluctant to cross. Primes weren’t breeders they were the best of the best. The best trained, the most proven, they were above being forced to have sparkling after sparkling after sparkling. Sentinel hoped. 

One of the other councillors shook his head. A silent message went throughout the room. The council voting on the issue. “Remove the bonded mechs from the list.” Perceptor made a strange whirling sound but the faces disappeared off the list.

The pool almost halved. Sadly more images disappearing from the contenders' list than the ‘No’s. Optimus’s face was sitting in the consider pile alone. Sentinel looked over the remaining mechs, a muttered plea of hope in mind as the council discussed them. The pile got smaller yet as mech who were stationed far from home were removed. The council wanted this to start soon. Another filter of anyone considered barren like Sentinel flashed through. As the requirements were listed the once numerous screen reduced to a good handful of bots in the ‘No’ pile and Optimus. 

Of course.

Sentinel felt his metal pop as he tightened his fists hard. Of course, it had to be Optimus. “Sir,” 

“You can not allow your history with Optimus Prime to blind you now,” one of the councillors scolded, as Optimus’s file spread on the screen. “He had excellent scores in the academy. He is a known hero and the mech who captured our greatest enemy. Our people will celebrate and gladly follow any creation created between Ultra Magnus and Optimus Prime.”

“His spark count is high, he should be very fertile,” Red Alert noted, the femme there as a representative of the medical board. Her Prime was already in the harem so there was no conflict of interest. Sentinel wished it had been Ratchet, the old rustbucket would be fighting hard to get Optimus off the list too.

“He has touched the all-spark, his creations are sure to be blessed by Primus himself!”

“It’s not that simple, sirs,” Sentinel pressed. “Optimus has never shown any hints of wanting to be in the harem. He wants… wanted to be a traditional pairing or trine.” Optimus had been comfortable sleeping with Sentinel and Elita. He’d enjoyed being together in a temporary trine until they graduated and found their new assignments. At that point, Sentinel had wanted the same thing. He’d even imagined being able to stay with the two of them forevermore, conquering the Autobot ranks together. Then everything had gone to pit.

“It’s not his decision. He is a loyal Autobot. I’m sure he will be more than happy to bear Ultra Magnus’s heirs,” One of the noble-born councilmen scoffed. “Ultra deserves the best and Optimus Prime is the best.” 

Sentinel desperately tried to find another reason. Optimus was not going to want this. He did not want this! Oh, Optimus was handsome and distinctly fraggable. He was a perfect example of Autobot engineering. Those lips felt fantastic against his spike. Frag, Sentinel had fragged him during their brief encounters in recent years. Optimus had stamina. Being able to do that whenever he pleased had a nice dream-like feel to it. But at the heart of it all, Optimus was a romantic who believed in the Autobot notion of every sentient being deserved freedom to a level most Autobots did not. The weird bot was friends with organics! That was not normal! Sentinel told the council all of this but they were too lost in the idea now of having a sparkling with the two great heroes of Cybertron.

[Rodimus]

[Sent?] His partner sounded upbeat and more awake than Sentinel was expecting. 

[Would fragging Spottius Prime be better than fragging a reluctant Optimus Prime?]

[Depending on how reluctant Optimus is, not at all.]

Sentinel watched the council dismiss the other candidates with a heavy feeling in his chest. He couldn’t bring himself to be angry at this. He didn’t want a relationship with Optimus. He wanted to continue disliking him immensely from a distance with the occasional bout of hate sex. He should fight and complain and make this difficult. But his own position was too weak to survive that. He’d be stuck in the harem regardless, losing rank did not dismiss you from Magnus’s favour. 

He should be furious at Optimus for making himself a target, the attention-loving whore. Of course, he had to defeat Megatron and bring the mech back to Cybertron to be imprisoned. He couldn’t let one of the other Primes do it. He couldn’t let Sentinel do it. He had to the greedy slagger to do it. 

“It is decided.”

“For the good of Cybertron, Optimus Prime will be reassigned to the harem and will bear Ultra Magnus heirs.”

“Agreed.”

Sentinel shuttered his optics and counted slowly. The Elite Guard shrink had given him to methods to use to calm himself down when stressed. It didn’t seem to help much. He listened as the council planned how to tell Optimus this new wonderful news about his promotion. Up from repair mech to breeder to Ultra Magnus himself! Sentinel wanted to purge. The only thing he could do now was to try to make it that they didn’t make things worse. 

"Do you want to tell him?" 

Optics focused on Sentinel and he froze for a moment. Did Sentinel want to be the one to tell a mech he'd going to be forced into a non-traditional relationship and taken away from the team who he had served with? Especially a team that was as close-knit as that repair crew was? Pit no! Only, if he didn't, frag. He was going to have to be involved in this somehow. "I think, it would be best if Rodimus and I inform him together," Sentinel croaked, praying the council didn't notice how dry his throat was. Rodimus and Optimus were friends long ago. Rodimus would know what to do. He hoped. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So while searching around I found two short stories based on a request from TFKink. I got to daydreaming and decided to try my own version. This is my first fanfiction in forever. Not sure how much I'm going to write but it's a little bit of a personal challenge. I hope people enjoy it.
> 
> [Also I suck at writing jerks. Sentinel's going to be less of a jerk than he normally is, though I shall try to keep some of it in there. I figure he's got to have some fondness left for Optimus. Somewhere in that spark of his. Let me know if he ends up too oc]


	2. Chapter 2

The prison was intimidating. Designed for warbuilds, it was far larger than any typical building on Cybertron. The walls were grey and grim, every inch of the place intended to destroy the hopes and dreams of the people trapped inside. Guards marched the corridors wearing faceplates to protect their identities and dedicated to maintaining the highest level of security in the fortress. The guards used no names within the grounds, only numbers.

Megatron’s number was D16. An insult, to be sure. Starscream, while not in the facility, was D01.

Optimus Prime was not here to see Megatron, not yet. Instead, he visited the other Decepticons he had destined for this place. It had been over three earth months since the final battle. At the time, it felt like things were truly going to change for the better. Optimus thought that once the Decepticons were put to trial the truth of what had happened would emerge. As it was, the council had thrown them in prison and turned their backs on them. Content, it seemed, to let the Decepticons rust. That didn’t sit right with Optimus.

“Little Autobot,” Blizwing greeted, his smiled twisting up into a smile as he saw who was at his cell door. Icy was in place, the blue muted and dim.

“Blizwing,” Optimus nodded, eyes taking in the Con’s appearance. His colours were dull, his eyes bleached from low energy. They weren’t fuelling him well enough again. He’d have to talk to his contacts about that. Last time he’d been, Blizwing had been doing better, but this was a distinct step in the backwards direction. “They reduced your fuel allowance again?”

“Um,” Blizwing nodded. “Got fed up of Random, I think.” The science department had locked Hothead away the moment Perceptor had figured out how to do it. The Ego too dangerous to be allowed the freedom to appear. Icy was cold, but he was easy to deal with, unlike Hothead or Random. Cooperative, within reason for a captured enemy. “Energon shortages, too.”

“No reason to starve you.”

“Such a good-hearted little Autobot,” Blizwing cooed, insult oozing out of his voice. His wings fluttered slightly, the chains attached to them clattering.

“Be quiet, con scum!”

Blizwing screamed as electricity ran through him. Optimus watched horrified, turning to the guard and ordering him to stop. Optimus yanked the remote from the guard and turned it off himself as the Autobot watched as Blizwing twitched and screamed. The prison guards did not care about the comfort of the Decepticons, only that they behaved. Blizwing fell to his knees, about as far as the chains would let him and panted, looking up at Optimus through pained optics.

“We lack good-hearted Autobots in here,” The smile he gave was as twisted as they came.

“Why did you do that?” Optimus demanded, breaking the remote in his hands. This was not the first time he’d seen the guards punished the Decepticon generals but previously, there had been actual infractions. “He didn’t do anything!”

The guard looked shocked by Optimus’s anger. “D10 was flirting.”

And that’s a reason to shock their prisoners? It was against the accords to torture them, and Optimus could not see anything Blizwing had done to deserve that. “We were talking calmly. He was not insulting me or trying to get me to help him escape.”

“Flirting leads to mixed loyalties. Flirting is not allowed,” the guard chimed, the words painfully neutral as if the mech was reciting from a book. Or possibly from another person.

“Con’s don’t flirt like that,” Optimus shuttered his optics and pinched his brow. “They don’t flirt by fluttering their wings and cooing.” He would know. That was all far too innocent for a Con. The Cons were far more aggressive than that. Starscream sometimes had flirted a bit more subtly, but even then his words had been as crass as any dock worker. Megatron’s words were smooth, but his actions rough. He'd promised to make a mech sing in pleasure while trying to cut off their legs. Lugnut’s praises of his love were as bad as his praises of his glorious lord. He wouldn’t be flirting with anyone even if he had the frame to do so. “Who ordered you to shock whenever a flight frame wriggles their wings?” Optimus questioned, already mentally wording a letter to the council about this.

“General Aquaclaw.”

“I will deal with Aquaclaw then,” The tone in Optimus’s voice was as cold as Icy had been before his capture. He turned back to Blizwing and frowned, watching the Decepticon continue to wheeze on his knees. “I’ll see what I can do about better fuel. And about getting Random released.”

“You have my thanks, little Autobot,” Blizwing nodded, burning red eyes looking him up and down but the sneer in his voice was gone. That in itself was concerning. The Decepticons insulted Autobots as easily as they breathed, sometimes without meaning too. This place was beginning to break them. Optimus should be celebrating. Only, his spark felt heavy. If the rest of the Decepticon army broke through the borders and found their prized warriors like this, it would ruin any chance of peace.

They left, Optimus forcing himself not to shake in anger at what had happened. “How long have you all be shocking the prisoners for such small things?”

“A orn, maybe two,” the guard reluctantly answer. “Sir! You are the hero of Cybertron. Why do you let him call you ‘Little Autobot’?”

Optimus paused, turning to face the mech head-on. His colours were muted, hidden under a code that helped protect the mech identity as much as the voice scrambler and the face shield did. “It’s not an insult. It is not my name, true, but,” he trailed off, looking at the next cell. It was empty; all of the Generals were placed apart from each other to attempt to limit contact. “It’s not an insult,” he repeated before continuing down the way.

He glanced in at Sunstorm and Ramjet, the only two Starscream clones on Cybertron. The others were hiding on Earths’ moon according to his team’s reports. Not that any Autobots were reading his team’s report, despite the trouble that had caused last time. Optimus had told them to leave the clones alone unless they targeted the humans or new orders came from the Autobot Council. For now, the clones were free to exist and develop into their own selves outside of their manic creator. Sunstorm and Ramjet were unfortunate that the Autobots had captured them with Blizwing.

“Hello again,” Sunstorm beamed at him, despite the equal degradation of his colours. None of the flight frames were getting the fuel they needed. Optimus made a mental note to check with Jetfire and Jetstorm if they were receiving any issues. They were loyal Autobots but, the recent months had only reminded Optimus that the Autobots liked to ignore problems instead of fixing them.

“Hello, Sunstorm,” Optimus smiled back. “How are you today?”

“Um,” Sunstorm tilted his head. “I don’t hurt as much as yesterday! The guards have been wondrously kind this morning.” The words were as bright as his paint job should have been. They stabbed at Optimus’s heart. Sunstorm was the one who couldn’t help but praise others.

“That’s good, Sunstorm,” Optimus nodded, glancing at the guard again. The guard's field stuck with embarrassment. The words cut in deep to the guards’ spark too. None of them could deny the flyers were young. Too young to be trapped and chained in here without a fair trial. They hadn’t chosen to join the Decepticons. Regardless, Optimus could imagine the young flyers were in more danger than their older companions for being punished for ‘flirting’.

“The brilliant science bot came too. He says I can fly soon. Maybe with the excellent Autobot flyers if they are so kind as to agree? My coding is…” Sunstorm frowned. “I’m sure about the word he used. It was a long and very clever word that I woefully don’t have. I think my coding is going bad? I need to fly to fix it.”

“That’s excellent news, Sunstorm,” Optimus’s spark loosened up. “Do you know which intelligent science bot?”

“I don’t,” Sunstorm stretched, his body tensing before relaxing again. Being confined to such a small space was not an easy thing. “He had the thing the guards wear. To hide his no doubt handsome appearance?”

“I see,” Another job to check over then, which of the science team was taking an interest in Sunstorm? Perceptor had requested to experiment on the clones to discover how Starscream had managed it. Optimus had blocked it. Was someone else trying or was Optimus paranoid? “I have to go now. I hope you can fly soon.”

“Come back soon!” Sunstorm’s voice was cheerful but a touch of desperation in at the back of it. The flyer was lonely.

Optimus rubbed his head again as he left. Ramjet said nothing to him, but Optimus wasn’t expecting him too. Ramjet hadn’t said a word since his capture, though the medics promised the clone did have a functioning vocaliser. Possibly the clone had enough awareness to know his continuous lying, hardcoded into his being or not, would frag off the guards more than him declining to speech.

As they passed Lugnut, Optimus noted the mech’s paint-job was much more vibrant. His theory about it only being the flyers was looking more plausible. Lugnut glared at him but didn’t speak. Unless Ramjet, he was happy to shout insults at the Autobots and praises for his leader, in chains or not. The guards had got bored of it fast, and General Aquaclaw had ordered his vocaliser deactivated. Optimus knew he should have fought against that harder, but stopping the science ministry from experimenting on the flyers had been more critical. Also, he understood how Lugnuts endless shouting could drain on a mech.

Finally, they were at Megatron’s door. Optimus skipped Shockwave, wanting nothing to do with the spy. He was sure the mech was as well as the rest of the Decepticon prisoners. Optimus check every other time he came, enough to be satisfied but not enough to form a relationship with the traitor.

“That time of the orn already?” Megatron deep voice rumbled from inside his cell. Red optics came online, and a smile appeared on the Decepticon leaders faceplates. Optimus forced himself not to shiver at the cold thing. It was the kind of smile at haunted mechs nightmares. “When our conquerer comes to visit?”

“Good to see your sense of humour is still as sharp as ever, Megatron,” Optimus grimaced, crossing his arms as he took in the mech. Like the rest of the Generals, Megatron was chained uptight. Unlike the rest of his mechs, extra precautions littered the cell in the aide was making Megatron more secure. The council had chained Megatron on his knees, arms behind his back with stasis cuffs. A large and bucky collar was around his neck with yet more chains keeping him fixed in place. Megatron was moving no way fast. Optimus dreaded to think about how the mech’s knees were after all this. Megatron was not a young mech.

Megatron shrugged as much as a mech with so many restraints could. “One has to during times like this. So tell Optimus Prime, how is being a hero of the people going? Has the novelty worn off yet?” Optimus winced, making Megatron chuckle again. His tone somehow turned darker and foreboding. “I warned you.”

“Given I spend much of the time using my influence to protect your men, I wouldn’t be laughing so easily if I were you,” Optimus scowled.

“What you do out of the goodness of your spark is your business, not mine. Once they set you aside, you’ll see what the Autobots are,” Megatron promised, the words echoing in his chest uncomfortably. Optimus was not blind to the reality of things. A shame the Decepticons were no better. “A bunch of functionalist, sparkless hypocrites.”

“Perhaps,” Optimus offered softly, knowing even saying that would possibly get him court marshalled if the wrong person heard it. “But we both know things are far more complicated than that.”

Megatron snorted, the guard next to Optimus flinched at the sound. “Tell me Optimus Prime? Where is your team? The one that fought so bravely at your side despite being underpowered and undertrained?” The warlord’s usual sneer was missing from the words.

“Back on Earth.” A sore point, despite all the promises and declarations of rewards, his team were back where they started. Without him and without Prowl.

“And why are you not with them?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What’s a story if there aren’t a few other threads running at the same time of the main one? Most of Starscream’s clones are on the moon doing whatever they are doing. The Autobots on Earth aren’t exactly happy to be back, kind of. It’s complicated and someone’s got to keep an eye on the mechs still there.


	3. Chapter 3

Various machines beeped, hookup to Ultra Magnus as he rested. All designed to keep him alive and help him to recover as soon as possible. Shockwave’s attack was going to leave a lasting impact on the older mech for quite some time, but he would recover. They just had to keep him safe until he was capable of defending himself again.

And hence the harem was sleeping beside the mech during the late shift to help protect him. The extra attention didn't help either. They could do anything too draining, but both Sentinel and Rodimus were inventive when they needed to be. Anything for their beloved leader.

Red Alert was in the room, checking Rodimus over before they went to pick up their newest member. The medic was less than happy that Rodimus was insisting on leaving to go with Sentinel. Ultra Magnus looked over to him with a fond smile and reach out to him. Sentinel went, kissing the mech with a touch of passion he would never dare show outside of these room before snuggling up to him to watch Red Alet fuss over Rodimus.

Optimus was visiting the Decepticons again. The Autobot seemed to have appointed himself the protector of the scumbags and spent a lot of his time trying to ensure they had the best care. Why Optimus did such a thing when the cons had never tried to look after heir Autobot prisoners was beyond Sentinel. Only that wasn’t true. He knew precisely why Optimus would fight the rights of their hates enemies.

Sodding bleeding spark. Sentinel shifted, careful not to move any of Ultra Magnus’s wires and moved to stand by the window. There was a touch of concern in their leader’s field, but he didn’t bring it up, not with Red Alert in the room.

They were going to take that bleeding spark that cared too much and break it far worse than what had happened before.

The city lay before him, shining bright, a second golden age of Autobot glory and wisdom. The energon farms were producing well, trade between other races, even disgusting organic ones, were ding well and their most hated enemies were crippled; and yet they had to force one of their greatest heroes to carry a sparkling.

“I don’t see why Sentinel Prime cannot go on his own to retrieve Optimus Prime!” Red Alert repeated loser, clearly wanting input from the mech.

“Because I’ll annoy him, we’ll argue about something stupid and either I won’t tell him because we’ll stomp away from each other...”

“Or frag,” Rodimus cut in.

“Or far more likely, I’ll shout it at him in anger and he’ll either run off not believing me or storm off not willing to come. Possibly after punching me in the faceplates.” Sentinel glared at his lover, who only smiled mischievously.

Rodimus knew, as did Ultra, about his little trysts with Optimus Prime. While they weren’t expected to be ‘loyal’ to the harem, the harem did come first. Longarm-Shockwave had a far few flings with his agent Blurr. Sentinel and Optimus had collided together explosively. They both had encouraged Sentinel to continue in the hopes that their relationship would improve. Having a lover with a gaping wound in their spark was never a good thing. A shame this was likely to set his and Optimus’s relationship back a good way.

“Sentinel has a habit of bringing out the worst in Optimus Prime,” Ultra Magnus said sounding rather sagely, but there was a fond look on his face. “As does Optimus on Sentinel.”

“I’m sure Optimus Prime will be pleased to serve you,” Red Alert sniffed. “I don’t see why Rodimus has to go when he is barely recovered. I’m not sure why any of you need to do. It would be far easier to order him here.”

“Red, not everyone wants to join the harem. If the council weren’t insistence, we’d be courting Optimus for this, not taking his choice away from him,” Rodimus explained, tone gentle as he patted her shoulder. Rodimus was almost as bad as Optimus about certain things, but the bot had a healthy dose of selfishness and a sharp edge that Optimus did not. “Op and I got on. I should be able to soften the blow.”

“Fine. You get hurt, I’ll slag you myself!”

“Of course, Red,” Rodimus promised, standing up and fluttering over to Sentinel to give the mech a kiss on the cheek. “We better go before the council get antsy.” Sentinel kissed him back, his own anxiety growing by the moment.

“Good luck,” Ultra Magnus nuzzled both of them as they kissed him goodbye, lingering on Sentinel with one of his soul reaching glazes. The kind that made it feel like their leader could see through them and into every thought they’d ever had. Be careful, try not to scare the mech off.

* * *

“He’s not in,” Rodimus noted as they rang the door chime to no avail. “Must be taking longer than we expected to get back.”

“Or he visited friends,” Sentinel offered, musing over the few Autobots friends Optimus had remaining on the planet. There weren’t many now his team were safely back on Earth. Sentinel was immensely glad the team were far from this. The last thing they needed was for Optimus to have an escape route if he bolted. After that, Jazz was off doing whatever sneaky cyberninja’s did, so Optimus wasn’t going to him. Which left the Jet twins.

“I didn’t think he had any,” Rodimus looked at the door lock annoyed. “Think we could get Cliffjjumper to send a jammer our way? I’d rather not wait outside like a stalker.”

“A few,” Sentinel checked the lock himself. The statement was not unkind or cruel, but both of them knew what would have happened. The moment Optimus was kicked from the academy, no one would have remained in contact with him. A disgrace was a disgrace. He calmly pressed in an old but well-used code of Optimus’s. With a soft chime, the door opened.

Rodimus chuckled and walked in, taking in the small but well-designed apartment. The council wanted to give Optimus a much nicer place, but the bot had refused anything too big or fancy. Humble fragger, Sentinel followed in, servos drifting over the furniture as he made his way to where Rodimus was staring at the wall.

One photo was too sore to look at. Three hopeful cadets beaming together, one holding onto both tightly. The other, Sentinel shook his head. He wasn’t sure when it had been taken, possibly while Sentinel had been servicing Ultra on the Steelhaven, but it was of the Autobots who had fought on Earth. Jazz and the Jet-twins included, with Optimus looking all handsome and noble, leaning against the bigger Bulkhead as the younger mechs crowded around him. The techno-organic was sitting on Bulkhead’s shoulders pleased with the world too. The grins on all of their faces as almost as hard to look at as the three cadets.

“One day, the two of you will have to tell me about Earth,” Rodimus traced over the face of Optimus. There was no denying what his expression was: utter delight.

“I don’t have much to tell,” Sentinel had spent most of his time ignoring what was happening on the planet. Jazz had been the one responsible for keeping an eye on the madness. He wanted nothing to do with the organic muck. “The elite guard wasn’t involved as much as we should have been.”

Too much time ignoring Optimus’s reports and refusing to believe the Decepticons were there to help. Luckily the people of Earth were too primitive to be useful to them. But the time the planet was trading intergalactically, the Autobots would have a fresh stale to deal on.

“I didn’t get to meet his team,” Rodimus studied the faces carefully. “That’s who made the cure for the plague, eh?” Rodimus didn’t count too impressed as he looked at the overweight medic, old and unlike their leader, not in good condition at all. The medic wasn’t beaming like the others, but there was a crooked smile of fondness. He didn’t look like much at all, and yet his records showed Ratchet was more talented than even Red Alert. A shame his political views didn’t align.

“Ratchet,” Sentinel moved away from the picture and made himself comfortable on the large sofa. The mech older than the war itself and that was all Sentinel had cared to know about him. “We’re lucky he’s not here now. That medic is not one for hiding his views on matters.”

“That so,” Rodimus hummed.

“He’d be throwing things at the two of you for sure,” agreed a voice. Sentinel almost threw himself to the floor at the appearance of one disapproving looking Optimus. Rodimus wasn’t much better. “Just why did you decide to break into my apartment?” Optimus snapped back his face shield, giving Sentinel more of a dark look than Rodimus.

“We needed to talk to you and Rodimus didn’t want to wait outside,” Sentinel sniffed, putting all blame on the bright fire coloured mech. “And we didn’t break-in. I used your code. You know the one you haven’t changed in forever.”

“I’ll update it tonight then,” Optimus grumbled, taking off his jet pack and packing it away safe. Sentinel was relieved to see it go. If things went wrong, he could tackle Optimus on the ground, but in the air would be impossible without hurting him. “Good to see you up and about, Rodimus Prime.”

“Just Rodimus is fine, Optimus. We were friends, after all,” Rodimus smiled at him. The welcoming kind that offered the chance to continue that friendship. Rodimus at his most charming where he could get almost any bot to do what he wanted.

Optimus’s disapproving stance shifted slightly, but there was wariness. Too many former ‘friends’ had tried to reconnect with him since he’d been made a hero. Humble, sentimental and a compassionate spark, these were all excellent qualities of Optimus, but none meant he was not smart to people’s tricks.

“Sure, Rodimus,” Optimus offered, clearly not convinced by Rodimus’s declaration. He got a cube from the dispenser and made a show checking the time. “Now I‘ve had a long cycle, and I’ve got a vid call from Earth coming in any click. What do the two of you want?” He downed the energon without tasting it, throwing the cube back into the dispenser as he grabbed datapad from the side.

“The council had a meeting today,” Sentinel started, sharing a look with Rodimus as Optimus continued to move about the apartment unconcerned about his unwanted guests. He hadn’t even offered them a crude which was unlike Optimus.

“They have meetings almost every day,” Optimus sighed, typing something into his datapad. It was mostly pointless bickering between the nobles about how much to pay the lower classes and who was responsible for repairing the roads. Nothing of any real value or use to him or to the Autobots waiting for the decisions. The desire to return to Earth was growing stronger every day. At least there he was useful. “Don’t suppose you know in which one they decided to starve the flight frames, do you?”

“The Decepticons are lucky to get as much fuel as we give them,” Sentinel snorted.

“And the fact Jetfire and Jetstorm are also beginning to be restricted?” The look Optimus gave Sentinel would burn through concrete. Sentinel’s plates puffed out, but Rodimus coughed before Sentinel could retaliate.

“I’m sure that’s a mistake, they are loyal Autobots,” Rodimus reassured, giving Sentinel a look. “We can talk to the council and get that fixed.”

“And Sunstorm and Ramjet are barely half a vorn old. None of the younglings should be starving at all, Rodimus,” Optimus pointed out, tone as sharp as a knife and worst yet his words were not wrong.

Rodimus went to talk again, but the console chimed in as a call from Earth came out. Optimus answered it, sitting on the sofa and ignoring both Sentinel and Rodimus. A shared look between the two Primes before Sentinel shifted closer to the fuming Optimus and Rodimus sat on his other side, boxing the fuming Prime in.

“Optimus Prime!” A red face squishy roared as he came on screen. Optimus’s shoulder slumped. Another issue to deal with.


	4. Chapter 4

“Captain Fanzone,” Optimus greeted, smiling politely at the enraged human. “What can I do for you today?”

“Get those sodding machines of yours in line! It was bad enough when it was just the two drunkards stealing oil but six of them!” Fanzone shouted, waving his arms madly, and face turning more purple by the moment. 

“They almost set the entire place alight last night and blocked the motherfucking highway this morning when they were sleeping it off!”

“Six?” Optimus frowned. Mixmaster and Scrapper were a pain, there was no doubt, but when had they increased to six? Dirt Boss was dead unless his team were wrong about that. Even if Slag was still with them, that would make four at the very most.

“They have new fuckers with them,” Fanzone scowled. “No doubt thanks to those friends of yours on the moon. The fecking Dinobots are no better. The flying on has started scaring the tourists who boat around the area. He keeps bloody dive-bombing them all. Get. Them. To. Stop!”

“I’ll talk to Ratchet about getting Bulkhead to talk to Swoop,” Optimus tried to calm the man down, starting to get worried about the man’s health. That colour should not be possible for a human.

“Who is that?” Rodimus murmured, sounding slightly shell shocked. The human curses were translatable enough for the two Elite Guard members to understand.

“Some organic,” Sentinel shrugged, not really caring.

“Fuck you and hope you get something stuck up your tailpipe,” Fanzone roared, not appreciating being downgraded to just ‘some organic’. “I’m the fecking head of police of Detroit, you idiotic big-chinned toaster!”

“Ignore my guests, Fanzone. You remember Sentinel has all the tact of Lugnut drunk,” Optimus cut in, reaching out to put his hand over Sentinel’s mouth as Sentinel almost bellowed right back at him. The last thing he wanted to do was watch the two fool tempered men argue for the rest of the cycle. Especially when he needed more information. “What do you mean our friends on the moon helped them become six?”

“Germophob pansy, I remember him,” Fanzone agreed, glowering at Sentinel with an unspoken promise of making his life miserable should they ever meet again. “Who is the bright monstrosity? And please tell me he’s not planning to step one foot on my planet.”

“I’m Rodimus Prime. My paint job isn’t that bad and no, not as such.”

“I need sunglasses to fucking look at you! A pleasure to meet you, I’m sure. Frag you,” Fanzone pointed at Sentinel, “Optimus! Get your damn machines under heel, or I’ll get Bulkhead to make one of those transporter thingamabobs and send them all back where you came from!” With those words, Fanzone disconnected.

Optimus groaned, letting Sentinel rant. He leaned back and held the next call as the blue prime stormed about the room, infuriated that an organic would dare talk to him in such a way. Rodimus watched too, leaning into Optimus’s space. “So that’s a human?”

“Oh, yeah.”

“He seemed…”

“He hates machines,” Optimus closed his eyes calmly, trying to zone out Sentinel’s long list of insults, including rather interestingly a few human ones too. “Sounds like some of the Allspark younglings have been causing issues again. The fact we are sentient only makes us more frustrating.”

“Are humans always that purple?”

Optimus snorted. “Not at all.” The console beeped and a second transmission came through. He answered it, deciding to ignore Sentinel’s tantrum as best he could. And how Rodimus was pressed up against him. They had been friends, of a sort but never close friends. Nothing like he had been with Sentinel or Elita. He shifted to the side, but the orange and red mech followed, pressing their sides together as close as possible. Optimus could feel the mech’s field brushing against his, a touch of amusement in it. Optimus looked at the mech, confused.

“I GOT IT!” Bumblebee’s thunderous voice came screaming over the line before Optimus could ask Rodimus to back off. The young mech was beaming proud, holding up a video game like it was a trophy. “Ninja Gladiator 4! The Jettwins are going to be so jealous,” he beamed, hugging the box to his chest before faltering as he realised who else was in the room with Optimus. Sentinel had moved on from insulting Fanzone and humans in general to organics as a whole. Rodimus lifted an eyebrow ridge. “Err, should I call back?”

“No,” Optimus shook his head, challenging his best disapproving team leader look. “Please tell me you did not spend all day trying to get that game instead of helping the city.”

Bumblebee’s silence was telling.

“Bumblebee,”

“Boss, nothing is happening. It’s fine.” Bumblebee waved. “Without the Decepticons causing chaos, its a breeze here.”

“Fanzone yelled something about the Constructions stealing oil and blocking the highway and Swoop terrorising tourists?” Optimus said with as dry and neutral a tone as possible, enjoying watching Bumblebee squirm at the two examples of problems the Autobots were supposed to be dealing with. He hoped Bumblebee noticed his lack of a fraction suffix to the Constructicons. He was pretty sure they were still wearing their Decepticon symbols, and he didn’t want Sentinel or Rodimus learning there were more Decepticon younglings on Earth. Not with how the council were treating the younglings in prison.

“Bulkhead’s the only one who can deal with those bozos and Prowl…” Bumblebee stuttered, drooping at the memory of their friend. “Prowl was the only one Grimlock or Swoop would listen to. Or you.”

Bumblebee wasn’t wrong about that, nor was Optimis missing the young mech's big optics of pleading. His team wanted him back on Earth with them. Optimus grimaced. The council had been reluctant to let a Prime return to a primitive planet like Earth. As for Prowl, his chest ached at the memory of his friend, but he pressed on. “So why didn’t Bulkhead deal with the bozos?”

“They tied him up and dumped oil down his throat to get him drunk too.”  
“So it was them plus Bulkhead? So only one new mech?” Optimus said on a vague hope there weren’t four new mechs for him to worry about running about on Earth. Though he was concerned with how little Bumblebee seemed to care about his best friend being forced to drink. Concern was in Rodimus’s field too. Any group of mechs forcing another mech to get drunk was worrisome.

“Sorry, Prime. There’s four,” a very hungover sounding Bulkhead grumbled as he came into view looking a little worse for wear. “I don’t think I can deal with them on my own anymore. They got a nasty streak to them.”

“I thought Ratchet said he made his special always works cure-all for you?”

“He did,” Bulkhead somehow looked greener at the mention of it. Optimus didn’t blame him. Ratchet’s idea of a hangover cure was worse than the hangover itself.

“Ok, Bulkhead. Avoid dealing with them on your own. You do have five other teammates to help you with them,” Optimus dialled down on the disapproval and pumped up the reassuring mentor tone in his voice. Sentinel was now cursing life and everything in between. He glanced over at the Autobot, but he did seem to be calming down now. “How about Swoop. Do you think you could deal with him?”

“I can try,” Bulkhead smiled, but it didn’t hide the look of uncertainty.

“Good luck. Where’s Ratchet?”

“He took Omega and Arcee to check up on our friends on the moon,” Bumblebee explained, resting on his friend as he read the back of his video game. “Something about birds getting their feathers in a twist about gems?”

‘Our friends on the moon’ seemed to be the new code for the clones. Optimus liked it. Rodimus’s field was curious, but the now sulking lump had barely noticed. Gems were interesting. “Get him to file a report when he gets back. Who was watching the base while you were out hunting that game and Bulkhead was recovering.”

“Sari,” both younger mechs shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal.

“Bumblebee!”

“Boss, she’ll be fine! Those upgrades mean she’s more mature now anyway. She’s out with her father at the moment. Do you want a report from her too?”

“If she was on monitor duty, yes,” Optimus exhaled, trying not to feel embarrassed as both Bumblebee and Bulkhead froze. He should have kicked Rodimus and Sentinel out. Neither was going to be impressed to hear Optimus’s team weren’t filing reports properly. Sentinel’s much quieter ranting had already picked up on it. Rodimus chuckled, a pede hooking over with Optimus’s.

“Get them sorted as quickly as possible. I will get Ratchet to take that game away if you don’t have your reports done soon,” Optimus warned, ignoring the gentle caresses of Rodimus.

“Yes, Sir!”

“Tell Ratchet I’m hoping the Jet twins can come and stay with you all awhile. They miss being able to fly whenever they want,” Optimus continued. He could call Ratchet himself, but if Ratchet was dealing with the flyers, it was better for everyone involved that he didn’t. The flyers wouldn’t know to not be on screen and flyers were always Decepticons.

“Yes, Sir,” Bumblebee looked less happy at that announcement but didn’t complain in front of Optimus’s guests. His grip on his game tightened. Optimus predicted Bumblebee would be spending every spare moment playing that game until his high score was too high for the twins to beat in a few days. He’d need to send Ratchet a comm about making sure Bee got his reports done before playing hours on end of that game.

Bulkhead looked pleased with the news, his optics lighting up excited. “Boss, you are coming with them, aren’t you?”

“Not yet. As soon as I can,” Optimus promised, not liking how both his younger team members dimmed at the news. Rodimus’s field also turned unhappy, but Optimus ignored it. “When I can trust the council to not abuse the younglings, I’ll put in the request.”

“Yes, Sir,” both young mechs said with a distinct tone of disappointment.

“I’ll talk to you soon,” Optimus gave a reassuring smile. The two have their signoffs, and the console switched off, leaving him once again in a room with two unwanted guests. There was a moment of silence as Sentinel stopped ranting before Optimus stood up, letting Rodimus fall on the space he’d left. “So, what did you want again?”

“We’re playing messengers for the council for your new role in life,” Sentinel shrugged, moving back over and slinging his arm over Optimus’s shoulders casually. The look on Optimus’s face was bemused.

“You know we’re part of Ultra Magnus’s inner circle, right?” Rodimus offered, getting off the sofa and drifted over, body language open and warm.

“Bit hard not to,” Optimus tried to pull out of Sentinel’s hold, but Sentinel kept a secure grip on him. “Sentinel made a point of it several times,” he grunted as he tried a little stronger.

“Sentinel and I, Longarm before he was discovered to be a spy, we are a little more than the average Prime in Ultra Magnus’s circle,” Rodimus continued, catching Optimus’s face and forcing him to look at him. Optimus’s optics turned from bemused to concerned, the wariness in open display. “We’re part of the harem. We serve Ultra Magnus beyond what normal troops do.”

“He frags us, we guard him while he sleeps. Ideally, we carry any sparkling of his to term,” Sentinel stated, impatience ringing in his voice. He had no time for Rodimus’s gentle approach.

The look in Optimus’s eyes was fast becoming guarded. “Ultra Magnus doesn’t have any sparklings,” he murmured, plates tensing and his field was pulled in tight. Not that it helped with Sentinel holding him close and Rodimus cupping his face. They could feel every fluctuation. Optimus was going to try to bolt. Rodimus sent a message to the guards outside to be ready.

“Not yet. We haven’t had much luck carrying one to term,”

“The council wants you to join us.”

There was a moment as the words sunk into Optimus. “Can I decline?” Optimus’s voice was devoid of emotion, but a mix of things was bubbling under his plate and in his spark. They moved through Rodimus’s awareness before he could pick any out.

“No.”

Sentinel picked this moment to kiss Optimus, slamming their faceplates together harshly. Rodimus blamed him for what happened next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still failing at writing anything but plot but hey, the set up stuff is all done now. The players are in place (Well most of them). Let’s see where this goes next :) Thank you very much for all the comments and kudos. 
> 
> Also i have a soft spot for the Constructicons. All the teams to be honest lol. We’ll see which ones I can sneak in around the main plot lines.


	5. Chapter 5

The kiss was hard and passionate, and very much Sentinel. Optimus had memories of gentle ones, loving one, ones in the middle of passion that were sloppy and messy. This kiss was more what they had shared in the time between. Determined, claiming and not entirely happy, servos pulled him closer, backing Optimus against the apartment wall, careful not to push Rodimus out of the way. Plates pressed together, and Sentinel’s servos moved over Optimus’s body knowingly, and Optimus twitched into them.

They wanted him to join the harem? As Sentinel’s kiss turned less harsh and more loving, Optimus’s processor ran through everything he knew at that moment. Rodimus was healing, he couldn't carry at the moment. Sentinel apparently had failed to carry a spark. They wanted him to be Ultra Magnus’s breeder.

: You should be on your back somewhere legs spread and being breed:

Starscream’s crass and crude flirting and taunting was often the same thing but with a different shift of his hips. It wasn’t just him either, several of the Decepticons had made similar comments about his appearance and fertility. Something about bright colours being more fertile in the eyes of a Decepticon. Why else would someone show off like that? The concept of being born naturally with these colours did not matter to them. 

The answer to if he wanted Ultra Magnus to breed him was easy. Frag that. His battle protocols engaged. In a movement learned from his late friend, Optimus kneed Sentinel in the groin plates and threw him over his shoulder and into Rodimus. Face shield in place, he didn’t wait for them to respond.

He didn’t grab his jet pack. He didn’t shut the door. He just ran, transforming on his way out to avoid the hands trying to catch him as the guard tried to stop him. His wheels squealed as he landed heavy, relieved more than ever that his Earth form had a solid suspension. He accelerated, heading towards the highway. Fuck. The human curse felt better right now. He was being chased.

[Optimus! Don’t do anything stupid] Rodimus sent, somehow having his personal code. Somehow? He snorted at the thought. Sentinel no doubt gave it to him.

Optimus took a hard left. Rodimus was designed to chase. He was far more manoeuvrable than Optimus. He also knew these streets a great deal better. Optimus grimaced. He should have risked getting the jetpack, or never taken the damn thing off. He hadn’t planned for running like this. Of all things he was expecting the council to pull, forcing him to frag Ultra Magnus was not one of them.

He skidded onto an elevated road and kept going at his highest speed. The streets were quiet as acid rain began to fall. Few civilians wanted to risk ruining their paint jobs because of the stuff. A few guards joined the hunt for him, but it seemed they were trying to keep the chase in house.

[Optimus, stop!]

Others were hailing him, trying to get him to stop running but Optimus was far too busy working out what on Earth to do. He had no interest in being Ultra Magnus’s breeder. He had great respect for the mech, but that did not mean he had any desire to interface with him and carry a sparkling.

Sentinel was in front of him, transforming and jumping on Optimus before they slammed into each other. He span, tires grinding against the road as his chassis was weighed down. [Stop fighting, Optimus. You can’t think for a moment that the council will let you get away.]

[Frag off]

[Optimus surrender] Sentinel’s fingers tried to pry off Optimus’s medical panel to force him to transform back.

Optimus twisted. His tires lost grip on the wet road, and he skidded out of control, sending them both off the highway to the streets below. Optimus transformed, landing on his feet. Only for Sentinel to fall into him. The two of them tumbled to the side, paint scratching against the surface. The rain stung where the grazes were a little too deep in the metal. He needed to get back to his feet. If he could get to the underworld, he could find somewhere to plan and plot and work out what to do.

Optimus pulled himself up, but Sentinel was on him again, pinning him to the ground and grappling with him. “Optimus, be sensible,” he tried to reason, his own faceplate now firmly in place.

“So this is what you did to get ahead,” Optimus snorted, not in the mood to be sensible. He’d been sensible. He’d been the good little Autobot who did his reports and loyally followed orders and it always, always slapped him back in the face. “Makes sense. All your bragging about being superior. You just got on your knees and opened up wide.”

The look on Sentinel’s optics was hurt. It was the distraction Optimus needed to push him back and draw his axe, ready to fight. He would not go down easy, no matter what Sentinel thought.

“Do we really have to do this?” Sentinel questioned, shield and sword forming in his own hands.

Optimus snarled and dived forward. Their weapons clashed, sparks flying off them violently as they danced in the rain. Sentinel was an Elite fighter with the skills to show it, but Optimus had taken down Megatron. Even without the Magnus hammer, even without his jetpack, he could take Sentinel Prime.

It wasn’t a long fight. Optimus disarmed Sentinel, the sword flying to the side with a loud clatter. Both of them carried new marks from the battle. A trail of energon ran down Optimus’s leg and mixed in the puddles of acid around them. Sentinel had a gash on his arm from where his shield hadn’t been quite big enough to block an attack. Optimus growled as Sentinel tried to stop him from moving away.

Sentinel slumped back but didn’t try to reach for his weapon. He lowered slightly, hands out in an open and surrendering pose. “Don’t make things worse, Optimus. It isn’t that bad, I promise. Ultra Magnus is a good lover, considerate. Rodimus is pretty fun too. You’ll be free to continue saving baby cons and whatever other secondary activities you get up to. This won’t change much at all.” He tried in a last-ditch effort to calm his upset friend down before Optimus did something that they would all regret. He pinged Rodimus. He needed some help here.

Optimus didn’t say anything, not sure what he could say right now. He tightened his grip on his axe, edging towards the nearest alley. It wouldn’t take too much to get lost down here.

“Don’t, please,” Sentinel pressed, mirroring his movement. That made Optimus pause, his grip loosening on his axe. Sentinel never said please. Sentinel stood straighter and approached slowly, letting his face shield slide back. There was something duly disarming about the look on Sentinel at that moment. Sincere and honest in a way Optimus hadn’t seen for a long time. “Op, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“And yet, you keep doing so. Over and over. I don’t know why I put up with you. Why I give you chances,” Optimus shook his head, clenching his hands around the axe again.

“I didn’t want this,” Sentinel continued to move forward, hands spread out. “I have enjoyed our little trysts, but I never wanted to trap you in something like this. The council did not give us a choice. Just put down the axe and come with me, Op,” Sentinel reached out again. “I’ll look after you, I promise.”

Optimus looked at the hands and then at Sentinel’s face, considering. “I would have thought you’d go on about how I have to do this. It's my duty or some twisted slag like that,” Optimus sneered at the idea it would be anyone’s duty to carry a sparkling.

“I know you a little better than that,” Sentinel’s lips quirked up into not quite his typical smirk but something a little more charming than that. The gap closed and Sentinel pulled Optimus close for a hug, a proper full-body embrace that had no groping hands or intentions. Optimus leaned against Sentinel, spark aching and tired. Sentinel murmured soft things in his audio but didn't move, letting Optimus take the comfort he needed.

Optimus didn’t want to deal with this now. He wanted to shower and recharge. He knew better than to trust Sentinel but, he wanted to trust Sentinel. He wanted to believe that this wasn’t the fate, so many Decepticons had hinted at.

Closing his shutters, he was about to give in when a screech of tires cut through his audios. Rodimus crashed into them. It hurt. The three of them squirmed together as they went rolling over the ground. He lost hold of his axe.

Yanking himself out, he dived for it, only to be flattened as Rodimus pinned him down and slapped a statis chip on his neck. Electricity burned through his system and his body went limp, unable to move. The acid rose at his face, threatening to burn delicate systems. His axe was inches from his fingertips. Devastation and fear flooded his field. He’d broken through stasis cuffs before but chips? They were harder.

Rodimus clapped his hands but was quickly removed from his back as Sentinel yanked him off. Rodimus complained, but Sentinel was quick to pick Optimus up out of the acid before it could get under his plates. Gentle fingers checked his face and pushed back his face shield before Optimus found himself dangling over Sentinel’s shoulder like a rag doll, unable to move at all. Sentinel rubbed his thighs gently as he took a step forward.

“What was that for?”

“It’s raining,” Sentinel rolled his eyes. “We don’t want him getting scarred.”

“He was fighting us and trying to escape.”

“He was surrendering!” Sentinel grumbled, reaching down to subspace Optimus’s axe. His own sword came flying back to him, and he put it away too, ignoring the pain in his arm. Optimus's leg twitched, the mech trying to fight against the paralysis. Sentinel jostled him lightly. “Put up with it for now, Op. We’ll get the chip off you when we are in a more secure location.”

“Oh,” Rodimus winced, partly at the statement and partly as he saw the state of Sentinel. “I may have already informed the council of this.”

“Roddy,” Sentinel exhaled, but he understood. He would have done the same. Didn’t stop the fact there was going to be consequences for Optimus now. “What did they say?”

“Not to take off the chip until we have him chained in Ultra Magnus’s bed,” Rodimus admitted, flinching as alarm and fear slapped against him from Optimus’s field. “It won’t be that bad, Optimus. I promise.”

“It’s your own fault,” Sentinel scolded, but his own field turned apologetic and reassuring. “Come on, let's get back to the palace. We’ll need to shower and clean Optimus up before presenting him. Red is going to want to check you over too.”

“Not to mention, we need to…”

Sentinel looked at Rodimus stopping him mid-sentence. He shook   
his head. Not now. They needed to prepare Optimus before Ultra Magnus could frag him. The last thing Optimus needed to hear was about how they were going to molest him while he was chipped and unable to move. Once they get the mech showered and clean, it would be least scary. Sentinel hoped. For now, it was hard enough carrying someone whose field was frightened of what was about to happen. He didn’t want him terrified.

Carefully, Sentinel shifted Optimus as he was carrying him bridal style. He nuzzled Optimus’s audios and kissed him softly on the cheek, pressing as much reassurance into his field as possible to try to calm Optimus down. 

It could have gone worse. Optimus could have escaped.


	6. Chapter 6

Optimus’s field was prickly as they sat in the transport. Unable to move, nervous, and a touch fearful, the hero of the Autobots was not comfortable to sit next to at all. 

Sentinel had wanted to lay Optimus, so he was his lap with his legs on Rodimus’s lap. A soft reminder of their time with Elita and positive memories of being taken care off and cherished. Ultra Magnus would cherish Optimus, Sentinel was confident of it. Optimus was all the traits of a mech Ultra could fall for, unlike himself who Ultra often scolded for his behaviour towards other mechs. Optimus’s look would help too. Once Optimus relaxed into this, he’d see the harem as a good thing. It was nice to be treasured. A twinge in his chest as a whisper of a memory passed over him. Losing that last sparkling had been hard.

Instead of that arrangement, Optimus was draped over Sentinel's side, looking at first glance like he’d fallen to sleep on Sentinel’s shoulder, while Rodimus fussed over his arm. Rodimus’s hands were careful as he administered first aid on the gash. It wasn’t deep. Sentinel had far worse wounds on the battlefield, but Rodimus was determined to get it cleaned out before Red Alert saw the state of them. 

It was annoying Optimus only had a shallow cut on his thigh to show for it. The bleeding had stopped, the mech’s self repair hard at work, stasis clip or not. The rest of the marks on Optimus needed some wax and polishing but would disappear quickly. Luckily that was going to be apart of the preparations before he was presented to Ultra Magnus. 

“Why did you fight him?” Rodimus demanded, slapped Sentinel up the back of his head. “We need him to be in perfect condition if he’s going to spark. The council is not going to be impressed with either of you.”

Sentinel pulled Optimus closer, feeling his field turn dark at the mention of being sparked up. He put as much reassurance as he could in his own, and rubbed circles on the mech’s hip where his hand was resting. “He needed to fight,” Sentinel shrugged, understanding Optimus a little better than Rodimus. Optimus would never stand for anything without fighting for what he thought was right first. Optimus twitched again, a full-body one that had Sentinel slapping were he’d just been rubbing.“Behave,” Sentinel warned, checking over Optimus to check nothing was twisted uncomfortably. 

“Sentinel,” Rodimus frowned not liking that exclamation at all. “He’s not a con!”

“No, he’s not. You’ll understand eventually,” Sentinel wasn’t about to explain Optimus’s psychology to Rodimus in the back of a transport. He’d have to wait until they were somewhere private and had a ton of high grade. Optimus huffed, vents straining as his mind tried to overcome the chip. Sentinel tried to ignore it, continuing to rub circles. 

Rodimus looked between them, his faceplates relaxing slightly as Sentinel carefully adjusted Optimus’s arm. The venting stopped and Optimus’s field softly pulsed in reluctant thanks. Sentinel’s lips quirked but he didn’t make a jibe for once. Rodimus wanted to talk. Everything he knew about Sentinel’s and Optimus’s relationship screamed Sentinel should have dumped Optimus on Rodimus the moment he could. The thing with kicking Rodimus off the mech’s back to get him out of the acid puddle was more proof that there was more here than Sentinel was letting on, or possibly willing to acknowledge. 

As the transport stopped, Sentinel carefully lifted Optimus up. He winced as a storm of unpleasant emotions came rushing over him. Another full-body shudder raked through ending with Optimus’s arm pushing against Sentinel’s chest plates weakly. The fear returning now they had arrived at the palace.

“How is he doing that?” 

“Optimus,” Sentinel’s voice turned severe and firm. Annoying, stubborn mech who could break through a stasis clip. “If your not careful the council is going to make us claim you with a clip-on. Do you want that? If so, keep fighting, and I’ll get Rodimus to put a clip on each of your limbs.” He could too. It would be dangerous, but it was no worse then what they had done to Cons too dangerous to risk before. His field turned firm but sympathetic. He did not want to risk more restrictions. 

Conflicting emotions collided in Optimus’s field. Stubbornness and pride warning with surrender and tiredness. The body went loose again, Optimus’s head landing on Sentinel’s shoulder. A puff of warning filtered over the field. Optimus was not happy about this. His optic shut off as his field turned from fearful but stubborn to trepidation and sadness. It was not much improvement. 

“Good!”

Nodding to himself, Sentinel marched through the back corridors, (the council didn’t want people to know Optimus was less than willing in this) and to the showers nearest Ultra Magnus’s room. Rodimus trailed behind, occasionally making promises or reassurances to Optimus. None of which reached the mech from how his field did not change at all. 

[Sentinel Prime, do you have Optimus Prime in hand?] Alpha Trion commed. Sentinel straightened up as if the mech was face to face with him. 

[Yes, Sir.]

[Did he give you too much trouble?]

[Not particularly. Nothing I could not handle.] Sentinel shifted Optimus again, his arms starting to ache. He nodded as Rodimus to get the door. [Rodimus Prime and I will have him cleaned up and ready to be presented as soon as possible.]

[Excellent. Well done, Sentinel Prime.]

The council member and oldest Autobot in existence clicked off, and Sentinel relaxed again, placing Optimus down carefully on a bench. Sentinel had been in the inner circle of the Magnus for a long time now, and he still found it hard to interact with Alpha Trion. The stern mech made him feel like a sparkling again. He brushed his hand over Optimus’s chest plate, reaching up to cup his face. The face shield was half on, hold not, not able to stay locked back without the magnets. “We’ll have to cap the shield,” he noted to Rodimus as he pushed it the rest of the way back. The expression on Optimus’s face was neutral, but his field failed to hide anything. 

“Wouldn’t it be easier to remove the whole thing?” 

Alarm burst under Sentinel’s fingers, and he sighed. “You willing to have yours removed too?” 

Rodimus paused, looking at the two of them. “I’m not the one who ran and fought from an order,” he challenged though his voice was soft. He moved over to the supplies, slightly annoyed he was playing the role of a jerk when Sentinel was being kind. That was the wrong way around. He tossed the cap over to Sentinel, who carefully applied the gel. It was a bonding agent. With the right solvent, it would wash away, but it would stop Optimus was engaging the shield even once he could control himself again. It didn’t hurt, but the distress in the other Prime’s field was palpable. 

“There,” Sentinel patted Optimus’s face with the back of his hand. “Much better than having it removed.”

Optimus’s field said he disagreed. 

“Sentinel,” Rodimus turned the bath on, letting the oil warm up while they washed Optimus and themselves. “Don’t tease him too much.”

“I rather thought that was going to be most of the second half of this,” Sentinel snorted, grabbing a solvent hose and washing the first layer of acid rain off Optimus before doing himself too. A few blips of alarm from Optimus but the mech did seem to be calming down now. 

Rodimus rolled his eyes and moved over with some brushes and scrubs, getting to work starting with Optimus’s lower legs. Optimus had enjoyed bathing regularly on Cybertron, and it was only the muck from the day and chase that was on him. It came away quickly, his seams clean of any dirt or acid residue as Rodimus diligently wiped him down. As he got to Optimus’s knees, the mech started straining against the chip again. Rodimus frowned, glancing over at Sentinel. 

“Still ticklish?” Sentinel chuckled, reaching down to wriggle his fingers under the joint. Optimus’s body jerk and Rodimus could practically hear Optimus cursing Sentinel. One leg managed to kick towards him sluggishly, the blue prime catching it easily. Sentinel laughed, the sound honest and sincere instead of Sentinel’s typical mocking bark. Rodimus preferred it like this. “Sorry, Op. I’ll stop.” He kissed Optimus’s pede before resting it down again. Optimus’s field simmered annoyed, and his optics were narrowed at Sentinel. 

Sentinel shifted and helped Rodimus finish up quickly, holding the silver thighs up so Rodimus could clean everything down. The annoyance faded to a pout, Sentinel’s field pressing against it with amusement. Rodimus’s own was curious. The two fields meshed together familiarity, and he could feel how they had already synced up despite the situation. Rodimus’s own field was synced to Sentinel’s, but Optimus’s was unwelcoming against him. 

“I didn’t realise that could happen.”

“Normally, it doesn’t,” Sentinel sat Optimus up, supporting him as Rodimus cleaned his chassis. Optimus was watching Rodimus with wary eyes, but his field wasn’t sparking with fear at the moment. Trepidation, but not fear. “But Optimus has been building a steady immunity to stasis chips and cuffs for a while now, so it’s not surprising.” 

“Is he ticklish anywhere else?” 

“A few places,” Sentinel beamed, a touch of mischievousness returning to his optics. Optimus’s field stabbed at Sentinel. ‘Don’t you dare.’ Another chuckle escaped Sentinel. “Come on, Op,” he purred, resting his face next to Optimus’s audial. “Play a little.”

‘Frag you.’

Rodimus smirked. He might have imagined it, but it felt right for Optimus’s field and expression. 

“Fine,” Sentinal mocked sighed, taking the cleaning brush off Rodimus to do Optimus’s backplates. “I’ll let Rodimus find where you’re sensitive on his own.” 

Optimus groaned, his field unhappy but he didn’t fight against the chip. Sentinel cleaned his back, making a fuss of his joints. Rodimus picked up a pede and started massaging the wires there. A reluctance pleasure spread through the spiky field. Optimus didn’t want to interface with them or Ultra Magnus. The council wasn’t going to give any of them a choice, but they could do their best to make it pleasurable for him. 

“Right,” Sentinel put the brush down and shifted so Optimus could see his face. “You’re not going to like this.”

‘What about any of this situation do I like?’

“Part of this all requires Rodimus and I to prepare you for Ultra Magnus.”

‘Frag off.’

“We need to get you warmed up, neither of us is going to be fragging you tonight. That’s Ultra Magnus’s honour. We just have to make sure your wet enough and stretched out a bit. He’s a big mech, you know,” Sentinel let a lewd smile spread over his face, even as Optimus Prime’s glare continued to shout curses at him. His field hinting at some of the lovely memories he had being spiked by Ultra Magnus. Before the assassination attempt, Magnus had enjoyed pounding Sentinel’s valve hard. He had more of bulk to withstand more passionate fragging, unlike Rodimus. “So do you want the oil bath after or before we put the stretcher in?”

‘I’ll stick something up your tailpipe in a minute.’ Sentinel waited a moment. Optimus’s field burned hot for a moment, and then he stuttered his optics twice. ‘Before then.’ The longer it had to work, the less damage a big mech would do to him. 

“Lovely,” Sentinel grinned with a touch of excitement reaching his optics. He lay Optimus back down on the bench and carefully spread his legs. “Rodimus, you get him wet enough. I’ll grab the stretcher.” Alarm bubbled in Optimus’s field as Sentinel left.”Relax, Rodimus is good at this,” Sentinel promised, reaching down to unhook the panel with a practised motion. Sentinel knew Optimus’s body well and exactly where his override latches were. When Optimus’s field did not calm in the slightest, Sentinel grumbled looking at Rodimus. 

“Look, I can do it but…” Eating out a mech who was not comfortable with it was not Rodimus’s idea of fun. Not that raping a fellow Autobot was either, but the options here were rather slim. At least Sentinel knew how to please Optimus's frame. 

“Fine. Optimus, are you nervous because of this situation or because Rodimus has not fragged you before?”

‘And I can explain this how, afthead?’

“Optimus,” Rodimus offered, almost entirely sure he’d figured out how to read Optimus’s field at this point. “Would you rather Sentinel go down on you or me? The other person will be petting your frame until you’re ready to have the stretcher put in.” A moment of consideration ran through Optimus's frame. One shutter. “Looks like we’re switching Sentinel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Optimus is fast coming to the conclusion, he aint' getting out of this. So when given the choice between a mech who knows his frame and one who doesn't, well it's an easy decision. But hey, the non-con fic is about to get some non-con. 
> 
> Thank you for the Kudos and comments :)


	7. Chapter 7

There were two reasons why Optimus had picked Sentinel to go down on him. First, Sentinel knew his frame well. Their trysts as Sentinel called them has shown that despite their time apart, they both knew each other’s frames well. Optimus was even more sure of that when Sentinel’s fingers wriggled almost at just the right spot, a little bit more to the … ohhh that was better. Rodimus rubbed his shoulders and murmured gentle nothings as Sentinel got to work between Optimus’s legs. 

“Do I have to?” Sentinel frowned, looking down at the valve squeezing his fingers and the extended spike. 

The second reason was, Sentinel hated going down on valves. He’d happily suck Optimus’s spike but putting his mouth on someone's valve was somehow wrong to Sentinel. It wasn’t just mech valves too. Elita had always complained about the fact Sentinel would refuse to eat her out too. Leaving Optimus often in the middle, pleasing her while Sentinel fragged him. 

“Optimus doesn’t want to be here. This is the least you can do,” Rodimus said dryly, holding Optimus tight as the only semi-paralysed mech squirmed as much as he could. They’d given a choice, and Optimus had picked Sentinel. Sentinel’s lips were going on his valve whether Sentinel liked it or not. 

It was petty revenge, but Optimus would take every inch of it he could get. 

Oh, that’s right. His hips twitched as Sentinel twisted his fingers and pressed the right spot. Rubbing at a node gently before pressing firmer at the ones further back. His valve was starting to lube up, not that it was hard when the person feeling him up knew how to play his frame. Sentinel’s other hand was lazily pumping at Optimus’s spike as he complained.

“We only had to get him wet. I can do that fine without licking him out,” Sentinel thrust the two fingers he was using to stretch Optimus’s tight valve out sharply before pulling them out and showing the dripping lubricant on them. “See. I can do it without that.” 

Rodimus sighed, leaning forward to suck on the digits, not looking away from Sentinel as he did so. Sentinel’s faceplates heated at the display. Rodimus teasing his fellow Prime, taking his time to suck every drop off his servos before leaning back and cocking his head. The lubricant didn’t taste bad, and given Sentinel was happy to swallow transfluid, it was a mystery as to why he was so averse from this act.

“I can make him overload by hitting the right node.”

“Optimus?” Rodimus sighed, not bothering to voice the question as Sentinel pleaded.

‘Fine if he’s going to be such a sparkling about it.’ Optimus’s field radiated disappointment and irritation. HE was the one being raped here. HE was the one unable to move as they ‘warmed him up’. Warmed him up seemed like a misnomer at the moment. He was cold on a bench while Sentinel molested him and Rodimus failed to spark any charge against his armour. There was nothing warm about it. If anything it felt like a scene from a bad porno, only Optimus was not a blushing virgin, and it took a lot more than rubbing to spark charge from an unwilling frame. Optimus agreed with Rodimus that one the few things Sentinel could do was stick his glossa in Optimus’s valve and get to work for once. 

“Thank you,” Sentinel sounded relieved as he leaned down and kissed Optimus. The kiss was awkward with Optimus unable to respond and not happy with the mech. Sentinel’s skilful fingers returned to his valve, thrusting into him roughly but hitting all the right places. 

Optimus groaned again as Sentinel’s heat left his chassis and engulfed his spike. He would never understand Sentinel. Rodimus chuckled. “He looks good like that, doesn’t he?” he purred into Optimus’s audial fin, shifting closer and letting his plate press against Optimus as he noticed the mech was cold. “You should see him when he working on Ultra Magnus. A swear our leader has pulled him down to shut him up before. Certainly is a better spike sucker than a speech maker.” 

‘Agreed.’

“Frag you two!” Sentinel rolled his eyes, “And he’s done the same to you, Rod.” A third finger slide into Optimus, a soft cry of pain escaped him, but Sentinel was back of his spike fast to distract. 

“Hush, you,” Rodimus chuckled, reaching down to force him to do deeper on Optimus’s spike. Slight amusement escaped into Optimus’s field despite the situation as Sentinel gagged slightly. Sentinel suited having his mouth gagged far more than his endless insulting people. “Beautiful,” Rodimus nuzzled Optimus, hands starting to find some charge.

Sentinel's fingers played along the internal nodes, pressing as deep as he could. Optimus’s body flinched, and a low moan of pleasure drifted from Optimus as the fingers started an assault on his sensory nodes. Solvent began to form in his optics. This was torture in its own right, not being able to move as these sensations were forced on him. Sentinel took him in further, and for a moment, everything was white. He crumbled as Sentinel swallowed up his transfluid happily. For a split second, everything felt light and fuzzy. Then reality came crashing back in hard, and his spark hurt. 

The fingers left his valve, the entrance twitching. “Oh look,” Sentinel cooed, licking some escaped transfluid from his lips. He used one finger to circle the entrance, not pushing any further in. The valve tried to draw the fingers back in, but Sentinel continued to pet around it, teasing Optimus. “It’s a hungry little hole.”

“Here,” Rodimus passed the stretcher over. He kissed the back of Optimus’s neck, feeling the mech begin to curse at them again. 

Sentinel beamed at Optimus, faltering one moment as he saw the solvent begin to leak down Optimus’s faceplates. He sank in on himself a little, for a moment, forgetting the full situation. “A few more clicks and you’ll be in the oil bath,” he promised. Gently he pressed the stretcher in. At the moment it was small enough to slide in easier, but it would grow much bigger than this. Optimus whimpered as it was turned on and his interfacing plate was put back into place. 

“Not so bad,” Rodimus beamed.

“He’s crying,” Sentinel warned, helping sit Optimus up more. 

“Oh,” Rodimus bit his lip, not sure what to do. Like Sentinel, he’d got a little to lost in the scene and forget that just because Optimus’s frame was enjoying the attention, that didn’t mean Optimus was. 

“Op?” Sentinel took Optimus’s chin to make him look at him. “You know this has to happen, right? Even if you had escaped, the council would have hunted you down and dragged you back in whatever way possible.” Optimus wasn’t stupid. He could guess all this. He wasn’t sure how that made any of this better, however. “If you try to escape again, they will find more creative ways of ensuring you stay put that just a stasis chip.”

Visions of the gag in Lugnut’s mouth ran through him. The chains on all the deceptions weighing them down, trapping them in place. The too-bright optics of Sunstorm at even the idea of being allowed outside again. Megatron’s knees rusted from lack of movement. It mixed with stories he’d read about mechs being used as breeders, both real examples and things from erotica stories where it was raw and somehow triggered something inside him. At the time, a strange kind of lust born from taboo. Now that he was the situation himself, horror. He needed to fight, but he couldn’t. His jet pack was in his apartment. His axe was in Sentinel’s subspace. He was trapped, and there was nothing he could do. 

Sentinel was speaking again, shaking him gently. “Easy, Optimus?” Sentinel’s smile was shaky but relieved as he saw Optimus focus on him again. “I need your word, Op. Will you behave? At least for the next few days. Can you do that?”

It wasn’t going to be for a few days, was it? Optimus’s field was dubious but agreed. Feeling returned to him as Sentinel yanked the chip off his back, Rodimus complaining loudly. Sentinel hushed him. Optimus oddly felt more numb without it, a cold detachment filling him as the idea that he was going to have to accept this battered against him. 

“Optimus?”

“Fuck,” Optimus bowed over. 

Sentinel’s arms caught him and rested his head on his shoulder. Rodimus’s servos tightened around Optimus’s waist, concerned the mech was going to disappear from his grasp. Sentinel held Optimus’s neck, letting his field wrap around Optimus. “I need you to give your word, Op. We’ll have to put the chip back on before taking you into Ultra Magnus, but I thought the Oil bath at least would be nice to have able to move.”

“Fuck you,” Optimus muttered, but his hands were clutching to the cracks in Sentinel’s armour. He was worried that if he let go, he’d fall to pieces and be unable to put himself back together. A few days that would be long enough to figure out what to do about this: if there was a way, he could use it to his advantage. If there was a way out somehow without risking his team or anyone else who was under his protection. “I’ll behave. For a few days. I give you my word.”

“Thank you,” Sentinel’s field turned relieved, and he carefully let go of Optimus. “Do you want me to carry you over?”

“You just used your slagging trick to make me legless,” Optimus glared at him, arms trembling from the effort as he tried to support himself. It was not quite a glitch as it was a side effect of his wiring. As recruits, it had been embarrassing but worth it. Now, Optimus wished he had taken the risk of losing feeling in his valve and gotten rewired. 

“Right,” Sentinel nodded, picking Optimus up and carrying him over to the oil bath. There was an awkward moment where Rodimus hadn’t let of yet, but on tug from Sentinel make him shift. 

The Oil bath felt heavenly as he was lowered into it. Optimus let himself relax into the thick liquid, and it soaked into his aching joints. He winced as the vibrations in his valve increased, and the stretcher in it grew in size. It was going to ruin any chance of relaxing. Not that waiting for Sentinel and Rodimus to be finished so they could put it in would have been any better. He slid further in, letting himself be engulfed by the hot liquid. It was perfection. The oil on Earth had been enough to sustain them, but it had not bee the right kind to bathe in. 

Clicks later, hands pulled him up and pushed him, so he was sitting on one of the ledges rather than submerged. He glared at Rodimus. “What?” he demanded, pushing the mech’s hands away. 

“You shouldn’t stay under there for long,” Rodimus flushed.

Optimus’s glare did not reduce. Instead, he flopped away, best he could so he was no longer looking at the mech. Friends, they had been friends - ish. He’d been out to clubs and danced with Rodimus. Studied in the archives with him too, all to pass the entrance exam to the academy. It didn’t mean Rodimus knew anything about him. 

The two Primes left him alone to soak as they finished cleaning themselves off. Optimus found his anger bubbling up again, but he squashed it down. He gave his word he’d behave. He bit his lip as the vibrations increased again. His valve rippled against the thing. His hips were rocking, trying to get some simulation beyond the almost steady sensations. His optics watered again, and he hid his face in his hands as things started to become too much. This was virtually torture in its own right. The steady flow of pulses and the slow but steady stretch of his valve. How big was it going to spread him to?

“Optimus?” Sentinel murmured, too close. Optimus flinched and let out a moan as the sharp movement shifted the thing inside him. “Ah,” Sentinel hummed, kissing Optimus’s shoulder and drawing him out of the bath. “Well, you’re certainly primed for action now. We just need to buff those scratches out, and we can present you.”

“Sentinel!” Optimus groaned. A hand gathered some of the charge sparking over his body and clicked. Electricity burst over his plating, dancing through the oil. He gasped, hips bucking into the air as not-yet- an overload shifted through his system. 

“See what I mean, Roddy?” Sentinel beamed at his partner, Rodimus watching Optimus squirm with great interest. “He’s stunning like this.”

“I hate you,” Optimus glared weakly, his vents working at full capacity as he tried to regain some sense of control. The stretch sped up, and Optimus’s whole body jolted. This was humiliating.

“No, you don’t,” Sentinel kissed him again.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for some discussions about miscarriages.

This kiss was mildly better than the last one Sentinel gave him. He was able to respond for one. He kissed back softly, spark as conflicted as ever on how he felt about the loudmouth. The kiss was not passionate, but it was long and deep. A wordless apology pressed against him. Sentinel did not want to do this. Optimus trusted that. It didn’t stop him biting Sentinel’s lip as he pulled away.

“Really?” Sentinel glared at him, but Optimus shrugged, leaning heavily against him while his hips continued to pulse from the stretcher. Sentinel half carried, half dragged him back to the bench. Tins of polish and cloth waited to buff out the scratches from their scuffle.

Rodimus approached to help, but Optimus struggled as he tried to touch him. He pressed against Sentinel, biting his lip as the movement once again shifted the device within him. It was interesting how the hurt on Sentinel’s face tugged on something inside Optimus while on Rodimus he felt nothing but glee. “Op, I’m just trying to help,” Rodimus frowned.

“I’m sure. Frag off,” Optimus growled, knowing precisely what Rodimus was doing even if the mech was playing dumb. Washing, bathing, polishing were all social activities. Activities Optimus hadn’t done with other Primes for a long time since he was kicked out of the academy. Rodimus was trying to be friends with him. It was a shame it was as the mech was about to ‘present’ him to Ultra Magnus to be raped. Sentinel at the very least seemed to understand this was not a good thing. Rodimus hadn’t shown any signs of that yet.

“But.”

“No,” Optimus repeated, forcing every bit of will into it and his field. “You do not touch me unless you have to. Piss off. Leave me alone.”

“Sentinel…”

“Has had a fragged up relationship with me for a long time,” Optimus pointed out with an unimpressed look at Rodimus’s whining and the fact he was about to come up with an excuse that involved Sentinel. “Until today, you never looked at me like that. Did you look at Sentinel that way before you were brought into this or were you too pleased that Ultra Magnus’s desired you?”

“I…” Rodimus shrunk in on himself. His crush on Ultra Magnus had been well known even before he applied for the academy. It wasn’t unusual. Plenty of bots fancied the mech. There was something about him being an influential, strong leader that got mechs and femmes’ circuits running hot. Megatron had much the same effect, though most Autobots would never dare admit it. “I thought you were attractive.”

“But not me,” Sentinel noted, busy working on Optimus’s back, not about to let an argument get in the way of doing his duty. Optimus was going to look like perfection when he was finished. Perfection in hellfire, Ultra Magnus was not going to know where to look or touch.

“I enjoy our time together, Sentinel,” Rodimus said softly, reaching out to touch Sentinel but Optimus was slapping his hands away. He didn’t like the feelings in Sentinel’s field.

“Leave, now,” Optimus commanded with all the authority he could muster. The kind of command that could get Starscream to piss off or Lugnut to put down the chair with human’s still inside it before he threw it at someone.

“Go make sure Ultra Magnus is ready,” Sentinel ordered, backing up the statement. “I’ll be done soon.”

“Sentinel,” Rodimus hesitated. Optimus’s optics burned holes in him while Sentinel was busy rubbing at the mark on Optimus’s leg. Now was not the time to fix the accidental reopening of old wounds. “Don’t forget to put the chip back on him. I’ll make sure everything is ready.”

“For Ultra Magnus to rape me.”

“For you to join the harem.”

“Is he going to be stuffing his spike into my valve despite the fact I don’t want him to or not?” Optimus challenged. When Rodimus didn’t reply, Optimus snorted. “Stop trying to clean up the language and call this for what it is, Rodimus Prime.”

“He doesn’t want to hurt you,” Rodimus tried to reassure. “If the council hadn’t ordered it, we would have done this a lot differently. There have been reluctant bots in the harem before, but things are complicated right now. We don’t have the time to court you and get to you to agree the normal way.”

“Complicated? Complicated my aft. Ultra is close to death’s door without an heir. The council are forcing me to be the fragging carrier because you are injured, and Sentinel has lost at least one sparkling,” Optimus growled. His field pressed against Sentinel’s frame in sympathy as the mech flinched at the reminder. As much as he pissed that the mech was going to help someone breed him against his will, losing a sparkling was no simple thing. It wasn’t something he’d ever throw at Sentinel to hurt him. Rodimus being an ignorant little prick was a different matter. “There is nothing complicated about this. And I should hope he doesn’t want to hurt me or he isn’t the mech I thought I served.”

A leader was strong. A leader had to make tough decisions. Optimus knew that well from Earth and even now, keeping the Decepticon younglings a secret. If a hero was a leader, it meant he probably wasn’t the hero everyone thought. Ultra Magnus was going to rape him. Optimus had no doubt about that. If the council thought it was in the best interests of the Autobots for Optimus to carry Ultra’s heir, Ultra would follow the orders. What Optimus cared about was if Ultra wanted to or not. He’d done things too, that he didn’t want to do.

“I said go, Rodimus,” Sentinel waved his hand at the orange prime who didn’t seem to know how to respond to Optimus last statement. “I’ll do my best to cool him down.”

“I thought you wanted me warmed up,” Optimus sneered, yanking one of the clothes off Sentinel to clean one mark himself. Sentinel let him. Rodimus’s field felt helpless, but he left. There was silence for a few clicks as they both worked. Sentinel’s field pulsed with comfort and reassurance. Optimus’s anger calmed down, and he leaned against Sentinel. “And I thought we were bad at bringing the worst out of each other.”

Sentinel snorted but put an arm around Optimus’s waist. “We do. He’s a bigger jerk than me at the moment that’s making the scales tip.”

“Hard to do,” Optimus smirked as Sentinel grumbled, jostling him slightly.

“Rodimus doesn’t understand why anyone wouldn’t want to join the harem.”

“No excuse.”

“Op,”

“How many,” Optimus shifted so he could see Sentinel’s face. He cut Sentinel’s weak defending off quickly. He did not want to hear right now about how Rodimus wasn’t as bad as it seemed or felt right now. He understood that Rodimus thought this was a great honour and he should be happy to spread his legs for their leader. Understanding Rodimus's thoughts didn’t mean Optimus liked Rodimus right now. One thing that was confusing him was Sentinel. Sentinel was his friend, but that had never stopped the mech putting duty first nor arguing with him about said duties. But Sentinel was not saying Optimus should do this out of obligation but because there was no other choice. “How many did you lose?”

Sentinel looked away. “We should get moving.”

“Sentinel,” Optimus reached up to cup his face. “How many? How many times will I be expected to try until they give up?”

“You might be able to carry them to term.”

“Ultra Magnus is a very old mech to have no sparklings. I’m assuming we are only the latest in the harem. So why has no one else been able to carry a sparkling to term?” Optimus demanded, the question itching inside of him. This made no sense. If Sentinel had sparked up, Ultra Magnus was not sterile, so what was the issue? What was Optimus going to have to face?

“Eight,”

The word was broken and twisted. Almost like Sentinel had used a mixture of recordings to speak rather than his own vocaliser. Optimus shut his optics and counted to ten. That explained a few things.

He leaned up and kissed Sentinel. The kiss was gentle, more an apology than anything else. Optimus thought back to how Sentinel was always by Ultra Magnus’s side. His ever-loyal hound who would carry out orders without question. Was that why? Were they trying to keep the sire close to provide nanites to keep sparklings alive only for each one to continue to fail? Nothing was wrong with Sentinel. If there was someone else would have carried successfully, which meant something was wrong with Ultra Magnus. Sentinel kissed back before moving away.

“We do need to move,” Sentinel pulled himself back together, standing up and walked back to where he’d left the chip. Optimus wanted to stall longer, but this was something that could be pushed. No doubt Sentinel was mourning the most recent spark to return to well before it had emerged from his frame. “I’ll put the chip back on, and we can do join Ultra Magnus and Rodimus. Don’t fight me, please. And try not to scream at Ultra Magnus. He’s rather delicate at the moment. Getting enough transfluid into you to spark you up might take a while.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” Optimus sat on the bench, waiting to lose feeling. How to get a mech sparked without being bonded to them for dummies: if there was enough transfluid in their valve and you spark merged it would be enough to trigger gestation. Every mech or femme that then interfaced with them for the next half a vorn or so would then contribute nanites and coding to growing sparkling. With how Optimus imagined the harem worked, Ultra would be the primary coder, but Sentinel and Rodimus could be providing extra material.

Another thing clicked in Optimus. That was why Sentinel had refused to let Optimus frag him. He’d fragged Optimus multiple times but never the other way around. He’d assumed it was some dominance thing about Optimus being below him. Now it seemed to be taking on a darker edge.

“I am sorry this happened,” Sentinel murmured, as he placed the stasis chip on Optimus’s back. “I tried to get them to pick someone else, but once they had it in their minds, they were determined.” Sentinel carefully gathered Optimus up, appraising his now shiny and well-polished body before carrying him out the door. Two guards were posted either side of it. The council were determined not to let Optimus escape. Sentinel tightened his grip at one tried to take Optimus off him, glaring fiercely.

“Sir, we have been ordered to assist you in taking Optimus Prime to Ultra Magnus.”

“I do not need assistance,” Sentinel declared, his usual sneer back in place. “I will carry Optimus Prime. You may guard.”

“Yes, Sir!”

Sentinel marched, back straight towards Ultra Magnus’s room. Pressing affection and reassurance into his field as Optimus’s nerves increased with every step. Fear of if Ultra Magnus was looking forward to this, fear of being hurt, fear of something going wrong, all mixed inside the red and blue Autobot, with a thousand other different possibilities and outcomes.

Then they reached the door. It was a pretty insignificance door on the face of it, though two more guards stood to attention outside. One opened it, and Sentinel stepped in. Optimus’s spark squeezed in on itself.

: _They’d be mad not to breed you. You’re intelligent, handsome and fertile. Why you were ever let near the battlefield, I’ll never know._ : A phantom Starscream whispered in his audial, whispers of Megatron and Blizwing both making similar comments too but it was Starscream’s voice that was loudest. If the Decepticon was alive, Optimus was going to shot him next time he saw him. Then again, the Deceptions had been right in a way.

Ultra Magnus moaned. Optimus found him, the older mech sitting with Rodimus between his legs as Rodimus sucked on his spike. Well, they hadn’t lied about the size.


	9. Chapter 9

There was something strange about watching a mech that Optimus respected and thought of as a mentor get sucked off by someones less than his half age. It was more than slightly alarming the size of this spike he was going to take. Possibly a little madly, Optimus found himself regretting he’d never taken up one of the Decepticon on their offer to frag him senseless. At least then the size wouldn’t have been so daunting. Every mech who went to the academy knew that Ultra Magnus had Deception CNA in him. Apparently, it came out in his spike size. 

“It’s not that alarming,” Sentinel teased, leaning into Optimus to murmured it. “I realise I don’t compare but,” If Optimus could, he would head-butt Sentinel right now. Sentinel’s field was amused, still broadcasting reassurance but there was something warmer about it. 

Rodimus gagged as the spike slid in further than expected, Ultra groaning at the sensation. His hand kept Rodimus was pulling off, not that the orange mech wanted to. If anything Rodimus seemed determined to get as much of the member in his mouth as possible. Almost like it was a personal challenge. Maybe it was. Optimus wasn’t entirely sure any of them could get the full thing down their throats.

Ultra looked up, noticing them. He smiled at Optimus, but there was no mistaking the sadness in the look. He let go of Rodimus and waved them closer. Rodimus didn’t get off the spike, but Optimus’s view of Ultra Magnus expanded to what was around him. The wires attached to various machines. His colour was bright, but his optics were dim. All his movements seemed laboured and slow. Optimus had seen him since returning from Cybertron, but a brief visit was different compared to when he was supposed to be fragging the mech. No wonder the council was desperate to pump out some heirs as fast as possible. 

“Hello, Optimus,” Ultra Magnus greeted, a hand rubbing his arm as Sentinel placed him on the berth. “Sentinel, they mentioned your arm was injured?”

“Nothing too bad,” Sentinel promised, kissing Ultra Magnus. Ultra let out another heavy groan as Rodimus slid a little more of the spike in, throat working hard to please his lover. Sentinel smirked, patting Rodimus’s head. “Careful not to make him too excited. Optimus is not going to want to draw this out any longer than it needs to be because you swallowed a good portion of the transfluid that needs to stuff him.”

Optimus agreed with that statement whole-heartedly. Stuffing a mech’s gestation chambers to the brim was hard work. Work that Ultra Magnus did not look up to doing. Which meant… his field shivered. He was going to impaled on that over-sized spike for a while between tries. This was not going to be pleasant. 

Slowly Rodimus pulled off Ultra, the older mech making a complaining noise at the loss of heat from around his spike. Optimus watched in morbid fascination as Rodimus’s extended throat moved around the pole, returning to normal as he pulled off the spike. “I was so close to my record,” Rodimus pouted, kissing the end of the weeping spike and rubbing Ultra Magnus’s thighs. “I wouldn’t have let him overload so fast.”

“We can try for your record another time,” Ultra chuckled, guiding Rodimus up to press a kiss to him too. “We have a job to do tonight.”

Sentinel rubbed Optimus thigh as he shifted down to the base of the berth. Optimus shut his optics, the feelings of reassurance from the three fields around him not enough to stop his tank flipping now that it was about to happen. A job? That was one way to put it. Maybe it was easier for Ultra to think of this as a job and not as rape. Would it be easier for him to do so? Optimus was going to have to deal with them all for a long time after this. A job that he didn’t like but had to do, he'd done plenty of those before. His spark fluttered. Nope, that didn’t help the gripping gears that were chewing up his tank. His pede was chained to the bed and feeling returned as someone pulled the chip off his back. 

“Optimus?” Ultra Magnus murmured. Arms pulled him onto Ultra’s lap when he didn’t respond, the hold gentle like Ultra cared about him. The pulsing of warmth and fondness was comfortable, and Optimus almost felt strong enough to open his eyes and acknowledge what was going on. There was a sense Ultra was happy to wait for him to pull himself together more. Sentinel was close, most likely the hand rubbing his flank.

“Come on,” Rodimus complained. “The longer you stall, the more work this is going to be. Get your legs open, and let’s move.”

“Rodimus,” Ultra Magnus exhaled, grip on Optimus staying firm, though his voice and field now ringed with disapproval. “That is not helpful in the slightest.”

Optimus turned on his optics again to glare at Rodimus, shifting to move the weight off his injured leg. Ultra Magnus’s arm rested on his waist as Optimus moved, not stopping him but it would be easy to stop him if Optimus dived at the orange mech. “Next time Starscream appears, I’ll tell him I met someone worse at getting someone in the mood than he is,” he barked, tone making it clear it was an insult. He did not appreciate someone telling him to ‘get your legs open’. It was somehow below ‘spread your thighs and breed you like you deserve.’ At least that in the right tone and mood could be considered sexy. Get your legs open was a mood killer. 

“I thought he was dead.”Rodimus snarled as Sentinel hit him over the back of his head. 

The laugh that burst from Optimus was honest and sincere. It was such an innocent statement from someone blessed to have never met the headache incarnate that was the flight frame. “You’ve never met Starscream.”

“Con has a nasty habit of coming back to life no matter how you killed him,” Ultra Magnus agreed, hints of bemusement at this fact. “It’s his sigma ability. I suppose you were in plenty of situations where Starscream was trying to spread your legs?”

“More than I like to think about,” Optimus muttered, his tone dark. The whispers were back, but the warm frame and gentle smile kept them quiet. Ultra rumbled with mirth, kissing the back of Optimus’s head. Optimus didn’t complain. Ultra wasn’t pretending this was a good thing, or even right. He was trying to make Optimus comfortable. He was better than Rodimus at the moment. 

He let Sentinel shift him, so he was straddling Ultra Magnus’s thighs, still facing away from him. Rodimus’s hands helped too, though Optimus hissed at the mech. Rodimus growled back and bumped their heads together. Optimus shook his head about to snarl at him but gasped as Sentinel unclipped his interface panel, shifting the stretcher. With the thing magnetised to his panel, it moved out of him faster than he was expecting. Rodimus smirked and kissed him as Sentinel’s servos traced around the rim of his stretched valve. The stretcher felt massive inside of him, and now he could see why one was needed. Optimus moaned unhappily into the kiss as it was wriggled slightly, his hips trying to snap as the vibrations became harder to ignore. 

“We got you,” Rodimus promised, ending the unwanted kiss for a moment as he glanced down at the sight. One of Ultra Magnus’s hands held Optimus’s hips, but all his attention was where Sentinel was checking how ready Optimus’s valve was. Optimus let his head rest on Rodimus’s shoulder, venting hard as Sentinel gently pushed the thing the rest of the way back in. He had removed it from his panel as the thing filled him again with no click. 

“Almost ready,” Sentinel promised, kissing Ultra Magnus and reaching over to pump at the mech’s hard spike. 

“Frag,” Optimus gripped on to Rodimus, hiding his face the mech’s shoulder as hands petted his heated frame. He didn’t care who it was at the moment but staying still was not a real option. The thing was slipping out of it again, achingly slow as his valve tried to keep it in but between the lubricant and gravity, it was a lost cause. 

“Come on, up on your knees,” Sentinel murmured, pushing Optimus aft. Rodimus tugged, and Optimus found himself on his hands and knees with Rodimus still holding him up. “Let's show Ultra how pretty you can be?” His hand rubbed circles on his flank. Optimus wanted to yell at him but instead whimpered. 

Soft words murmured as someone played with the stretcher, pumping in and out of his tight valve slowly. Someone tugged on his spike, and he hissed, gripping his denta together. It was maddening. He could feel drops of condensation rolling down his thighs and hear the wet sounds of lubricant as the vibrator was stuffed in and out of him. Someone placed a hand on his stomach, feeling as it bulged from the size of the thing. A moan of appreciation rippled through the other mechs. The pumping turned rougher, and Optimus cried out as someone started tilting it to hit different nodes in his body. Overload teased around his circuit, but someone tightened their grip around his spike to stop it. He knew who to blame, damn Sentinel. 

“You’re good wonderfully, Optimus,” purred Rodimus, hand pulling Optimus’s head back to kiss him again. This kiss slower and more in-depth. It was almost pleasant. It was a nice contrast to the almost painful sensation of a finger wriggling inside his valve next to the stretcher, testing how flexible it was. 

“I think he’s ready,” Sentinel noted, fingers pulling out and coaxing the stretcher from him. 

It was hard not to beg as it left him, his valve desperately twitching around nothing. This was humiliating. Someone rubbed his stomach and Rodimus released his lips before kissing the side of his head. “Still with us, Optimus?”

“Barely,” he croaked. 

“Think you can get on your knees, sir?” Sentinel asked. 

Optimus bit his lip as the image of Ultra Magnus mounting him came to mind. His valve must look obscene, someone’s fingers teasing it as it tried to find something to grab. He was glad for Rodimus as the bed moved. He clutched onto the solid frame as Ultra Magnus carefully removed his legs from under Optimus. The loud creak as Ultra rose to his knees sounded painful. It would be more comfortable like this, Optimus had heard in the past. It was less stress on the joints or something like that. Large hands held his hips and thumbs rubbed circles as Magnus steadied himself. 

“Are you ready, Optimus?”

The fact he was being asked that was almost comical to Optimus. “Just get it over with,” Optimus snarled, impatience beginning to grow. He was sure tomorrow part of him would be grateful for the about preparation they had to give him. Right now, he wanted the spike in him and for Ultra to fill him as soon as possible. 

The massive spike filled him up slowly. The ability to speak fled and his vents stalled. Even if the stretch he was almost too big. Frag. “That’s is,” murmured Sentinel as he focused on venting, a servo patted his thigh approvingly. “You’re doing good. Stay relaxed and open up. Let him in.”

“I wonder how much he can take,” Rodimus chuckled, shifting to get a better look.“He certainly is taking it well.”

Optimus had no idea how much of the spike was in him, but he could feel his stomach expanding again. He hadn’t noticed with the stretcher but like this? Oh, it was perfectly clear how deep it was going to go. Unlike the stretcher, Ultra’s spike had bumps and was hot and was so very and ohhh, he was never going to be able to look the man in the face again after this. He whined as Ultra paused. Optimus's hips buckled. No stopping, not so when everything inside of him was straining. There was still more to take. He hadn’t touched Ultra’s plates. Maybe Sentinel not letting him top hadn't been about not mixing up coding and more about the fact Ultra Magnus had ruined his valve for anyone else. Another moment passed, and another inch pressed in before stopping again. Frag, he’d never taken anything this big before. 

“Such a good mech,” Rodimus cooed. “Maybe you’ll be able to take him on your first go.”

“Hush,” Ultra groaned, apparently in the same position as Optimus, to overcome with sensations to speak properly. “No teasing him.” 

“I think you should be more worried about that, sir,” Sentinel pointed out as Optimus whined unhappily at the lack of movement. 

Optimus let his elbows buckle and pressed his face to Rodimus’s knees. He wriggled his hips and moaned gratefully as Magnus moved again, pulling back before snapping forwards again. He growled as Rodimus laughed and batted him weakly. This was not funny! “Sorry, Optimus. Still, you only have a little more to go. Want to see if you can take it all?” Rodimus asked curious, hands tracing over Optimus’s shoulder plating.


	10. Chapter 10

“Rodimus, I will kick you out of the room,” Sentinel warned. 

“Aren’t you curious?” 

“Sure, but this isn’t for fun.” Sentinel pointed out. Optimus snorted. Of course, Sentinel would be curious about how much he could fit in him. He was glad Sentinel was also was of the fact he wasn’t here of his own free will. 

“Could have fooled me.”

“Rodimus,” Ultra managed to force a surprising amount of disapproval into just the one name. Rodimus petted Optimus grumbling unhappily. Ultra started pulling out again and snapped his hips back with unexpected force. Optimus clung on to Rodimus as Ultra started fragging him. At first, it was slow and steady, the older mech careful not to hurt Optimus as his valve got used to it. Optimus gasped and moaned, ignoring everything else but the constant pounding. 

It got faster, Ultra’s servos pulling up to wrap around Optimus’s waist and slammed into Optimus harsher. Rodimus continued to murmur soft words telling him how good he was being. Sentinel was doing whatever Sentinel was doing now. Optimus gripped tight and moaned, suspecting some of them were pleads as the friction became too much. Frag. Frag, this was almost too much. 

His aft hit Ultra’s hip plates, as Ultra dragged him down and let out a groan of pleasure. Transfluid flooded into his system. Hot, heavy and leaving his valve aching. It wasn’t going to be enough. Ultra didn’t pull out until he was sure no more fluid was coming out. Their positions changed, Ultra laying down again with his legs out in front of him. Optimus found himself back cuddled into his side, Ultra kissing his forehead as Sentinel and Rodimus worked on the older mech’s spike to get him harder again. The field was warm and curled around him tight. That was deposit one. Optimus let himself relax in the hold, he’d better rest why he could. 

Sentinel practically forced Rodimus onto the spike as he worked it over. Rodimus’s field was unhappy, but Sentinel continued, his own annoyed. He was not happy with how Rodimus had been talking to Optimus. Sentinel looked up and met Optimus’s sleepy optics with a half twitch of his lips at the scene. Leaving Rodimus to suck happily, Sentinel crawled over to Optimus and kissed him on the lips. Servos roamed over his plating looking for dents, and there was an almost protective tint to Sentinel’s field. 

‘Are you ok?’

‘So far so good,’ Optimus kissed back but stayed leaning against Ultra Magnus. Sentinel sat with him, massaging his ankles calmly like it was a normal thing to sit waiting for their leader to be hard again.

“Did you ever take Starscream up on his offer to frag you?” Ultra Magnus asked, not sounding at all like a mech who was being encouraged to get hard again. He didn’t sound like a commander interrogating his underlings either but more someone interested in something potentially scandalous.

Optimus snorted. Starscream wasn’t his type, even if some of the things he said echoed in his processor from time to time. Megatron’s offers had been more tempting, not that he was going to tell Ultra Magnus that. A lot more attractive, but sadly Megatron tended to make the offers in front of everyone where he had to publicly decline to keep up his image. “No. I did, however, make sure he knew how old the younglings in my team were. Blizwing showed a lot of interest in Bumblebee in the beginning.” Bumblebee who at four vorns was old enough to be in the core and to be fragged, though not an image Optimus wanted in his mind, but far too young for some of the games warbuilds enjoyed playing with Autobots. 

“And after you let him know?”

“Both the flirting and injuries to Bumblebee and Bulkhead reduced significantly.” The flirting hadn’t stopped completely, but it was lighter and less lewd than before. It was part of why Optimus checked on Blizwing despite him having killed many Autobots. The Con was crazy, but he had a sense of honour, and Optimus respected that.   
  
“Bulkhead too?”Ultra sounded interested by that. To be fair, Bumblebee looked like a youngling. Bulkhead didn’t.

“Well,” Optimus shrugged. “There was a thing where Bulkhead threw Lugnut a fair distance and off a cliff to protect some humans once. So Lugnut had a personal vendetta for Bulkhead and then after the fact he was young came out, it kind of stopped.” Some of it could have been flirting. Lugnut was more of a brawler than the other Decepticon Generals. Bulkhead was always reluctant to report the full conversations he had with Lugnut. Apparently, the Con had spent a lot of time guarding Bulkhead when he was forced to bridge a space bridge too. A shame Lugnut had that gag or Optimus would be asking questions to the source. Decepticons were far less embarrassed about this kind of thing. Swindle had hinted at the fact Lugnut’s sparkmate, Strika, let him deal with his charge where he found it. 

“Good,” Ultra Magnus nodded, field reassured. 

“Did you sleep with any of the other Cons?” Ultra Magnus may have been interested for interests sake but Sentinel, Sentinel’s voice was more accusatory. Sentinel knew Optimus had a thing for bigger mechs.

“No,” Optimus snorted, giving Sentinel a look. “And given you did, I’d settle down if I were you.”

“We didn’t know he was a con,” Ultra Magnus reminded his voice soft, but there was a trace of hurt in there. Betrayal stabbed in his field. Shockwave had gained such a high level of trust from Ultra Magnus and used it to attempt to kill him. Now, he was in prison. But the betrayal still hurt bad. “This is not the time to discuss Longarm and the fact he was a spy.”

“No, its time for the next round,” Rodimus interrupted before Sentinel tried to say anything else. 

Magnus was hard again. Optimus’s valve twitched. 

Optimus was sure how many times he was put on Ultra Magnus’s spike. At some point the older mech was no longer able to pound into him, forcing Sentinel and Rodimus to help Optimus ride the mech. Everything hurt. Someone had poured a cube of energon down his throat while he was panting and applied some medical lubricant to help when his natural supply ran out. He was sure they were giving Ultra something too. There was no way the mech was able to keep becoming hard like this without some help. 

“No more, please,” 

“Hush,” Sentinel tipped him so he could check his valve. Optimus could feel the sympathy as Sentinel saw how sore it was. A finger touched him, and Optimus yelled in pain. “Needs one more.”

“No,” Optimus shook his head, “No more.”He struggled as best he could, which wasn’t that much considering both Rodimus and Sentinel had not been drained off all energy. He could make it hard for them. “No!” he yelled, flooding his field with pain and ache and the distinct desire to rest. He’d been good, he’d let Ultra frag him without complaint and obeyed when Ultra couldn’t anymore. He’d been obedient, but this was too far. His valve felt on fire. 

“Op,” Sentinel coaxed, pinning his arms. “One more.”

“Can’t,” Optimus groaned, tucking at his arms and looking up at Sentinel with pleading optics. “Don’t.”

“If he’s in that much pain,” Ultra heaved himself, not in heaven himself. While he wasn’t painful, he was over sensitive now. This method was never meant to be one mech filling up the other’s chambers. Ultra had the capacity to do it, but it was hard. If the council hadn’t been so determined to have him and Optimus as the primary code givers, Sentinel and Rodimus would have provided too. Each time a mech released transfluid, less and less came out. Three or four mechs could stuff another mech up with relative ease and without the carrier’s valve ending up so sore and worn.

“The council,” Rodimus started, servos already slicking up the spike for the final round. 

“Frag the council,” Optimus cursed, planning multiple ways to way Rodimus’s life in particular hell on earth. Hell on Cybertron, hell on whatever planet Rodimus dared step one, it didn’t matter. Optimus was going to make Rodimus suffer for this. 

“I mean, he’s full enough now that Ultra doesn’t have to frag him deeply,” Sentinel offered, not enjoying how distressed Optimus’s field was becoming. “If you can tell us before you release, we could just put it in for the actual release part. A little less painful than being fragged one more time.”

Rodimus hummed and nodded. “Think you can do that, sir?”

“I think it's better than the alternative,” Ultra acknowledged. 

Sentinel pulled Optimus up and pressed him to Ultra’s chest, Optimus moaning at the move. He latched onto Ultra’s shoulder and hid his face, panting. Strong arms surrounded him, helping stay in place, and the field was comforting. Optimus shut his optics and let himself drift. It seemed no time at all until he was being lowered on the too big spike. Red hot pain rolled through him, and he almost screamed. There were a few moments of not being able to move, and then the pain left. He blacked out. 

* * *

There was darkness. He was floating in it. He shivered. He didn’t know how he got here, but he’d been here before. Every now and again, he dreamed this. This time felt different, though. He reached forward, and space shifted. It flowed around him like ink, he twisted searching for anything in the dim. 

“Arise.”

Optimus twisted, searching for the source of the voice. A light was approaching fast. He shielded his eyes as it whipped past him. Wind surrounded him, and it felt like he was falling for one brief terrorising moment. He landed in a circler chamber, the optics of many mechs looking down at him. He was on his knees, fist in the ground to balance as his spark fluttered in his chest. There was a table, and most of the mechs had cards, and some were playing with dice.

“Arise, Optimus Prime,” the voice called again, power flowing in it. It was so familiar, and yet he could not find the source. He stood, turning to see where it was coming from, but there was nothing—just the door to the black. 

“Optimus,” one of the mech called. His tone was one of someone who knew him, but Optimus did not recognise him. Though if he focused, there was a touch of something familiar about him. He had green plates and was reasonably bulky but not like Bulkhead. More like his old friend, Ironhide but squarer. His eyes were Autobot blue, and the symbol was painted on his chest plate, but there was a mission launder on his shoulder. Autobots didn’t typically have in-built weapons.“What are you looking for?”

“The voice?” 

“Ah,” the mechs turned back to their game. “He’s playing games again.”

“Games?” Optimus frowned, looking at the dark door. “This isn’t fun.”

“I imagine not, Optimus,” a much small blue Autobot commented, swinging his legs on the side. He had a visor like Jazz and wheels on his shoulders, suggesting he had an Earth alt-mode. That was strange. “Don’t worry. We’re waiting here, you go on ahead.” He waved with a friendly smile on his face. 

“And do us a favour and tell Ratchet to talk to Wheeljack about making us, would ya? We’re getting bored,” a flyer shouted from where he was playing some kind of board game. Optimus hadn’t noticed them yet. A group of flyers with blue optics like the Jettwins. The one who had shouted at him was silver though, with orange underlays and a yellow cockpit.“The Dinobots got lucky,” he grumbled to one of the others. There was a ripple of laughter with the mix of flyers and grounders playing the game agreeing with the statement. 

“You shouldn’t ask him that, Shot,” a slightly bigger flyer scolded.

“But I’m bored!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll mention it to him,” Optimus offered, and all ten mechs grinned at him pleased. He counted again, yep, ten mechs were waiting for Ratchet and Wheeljack to make them. Optimus felt very confused but left the area, eyes searching for clues as he walked into the darkness. Decepticons were waiting too, some mixed in the Autobots, others waiting to the side. None of them acknowledged him, however. Most playing games while they also waited for something. 

He shook his head and moved on. This was a dream. A weird dream but a dream none the less. 

Back in the darkness, he walked onwards. Something shifted behind him, and he turned. Large red optics looked at him curiously. Huge optics, whoever this was they were bigger than any mech that Optimus had met before. Bigger then Omega even. “Hello. You’re not meant to be here,” the voice noted. “Very strange.” A large orange hand-picked him up, and he was brought close to the optics and studied. “Ah, an Optimus Prime. Makes sense. You always end up in places you’re not meant to be, you know.”

“I’m not even sure how I got here.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you back home. But if brother is playing games, it may mean something dangerous is one the rise,” the mech paused, tilting his giant head and for a moment the red eyes went hazy. “Found you. Ummm. It’s not me, not this time. Something else. Ancient enemies from the skies and all that. I’d get preparing if I were you. Doesn’t look like you stand much a chance as you all are.”

Before Optimus could ask another question, he was back in the berthroom. The lights now dim and a thermal blanket over him. Sentinel was behind him, boxing him in against Ultra Magnus. Rodimus was on the other side of the larger mech. Optimus shifted, and pain coursed through him. Oh, yes. He was being bred against his will. Exhaling, he shut his optics and tried to pull himself back to sleep in a more healthy way. He’d deal with everything in the morning when he’d rested some. And possibly contact Ratchet about ten mechs waiting to exist. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope people enjoyed the non-con section of the fic. Not actually sure how much more I will write, though some may be alluded to. From here on out, it's probably going to be more plot lines. 
> 
> For any continuity questions - err. I'm going with G1 happened in the same realm but so long ago only like three mechs remember it and with the names now in circulation to be used by new mechs, old names can turn up. Reincarnation and all that jazz. Of course, with the seekers basically extinct, and animated didn't really have any predaicons either so let's say they are too, some souls are kinda stuck waiting for the next best option. Then we have the cassettes too, plus Blaster since Soundwave is already there. 
> 
> Three guesses who is one of the mechs who can remember everything :P For now, yeah. Thanks for all the comments on kudos and let me know if there are any mechs you want to see pulled in to the mess that is about to unravel.


	11. Chapter 11

Optimus woke up a second time, surrounded by frames and with someone rubbing his hip. His gestation chamber was full, all the warnings about sparkmerging pinging. They weren’t supposed to get sparked up like this. Autobots were supposed to wait until they had permission and were bonded before having sparklings. The council had coded a failsafe to try to stop them doing something stupid. He was low on energon and solvent. Not everything hurt anymore, but he couldn’t feel his lower half. His vents hissed as he tried to shift. His legs didn’t want to work, but the relays were all in place. He flopped back down and groaned. 

“Suffering a little?” Rodimus said, field teasing. He was the one behind him now, not Sentinel. 

A dark, petty plan formed in his mind. Optimus opened his eyes and glared at Rodimus. Rodimus leaned forward and kissed his lips, hands moving over Optimus’s chassis, but for once, the orange mech knew better than to let them shift downward. Optimus kissed back slowly before snapping his head. His forehead smashed into Rodimus’s nose. The crunching noise was satisfying as was Rodimus’s yells of pain as he scrambled backwards and fell off the berth. Optimus grinned. 

“Optimus Prime,” Ultra Magnus rumbled next to him, disapproving to the highest degree. 

“He served it,” Optimus beamed up at his leader, not about to be cowed after spending he wasn’t sure how long stuck on his spike being rubbed dry. “Where’s Sentinel?”

“Someone had to go run the planet. He has my orders,” Ultra shrugged, an arm carefully wrapping around his waist and picking him up. Optimus whimpered as he was placed on Ultra’s lap again, though his legs didn't spread wide like before. Optimus’s legs flopped uselessly, but Ultra’s arms kept his torso up and against him. His aft complained a little, but it was a comfortable hold, and Ultra’s field felt gentle against his. The sensation of fluid moving inside him was a bit unnerving, and like this Optimus could see how distended his torso plating was. He rubbed it, trying not to let the horror building in the back of his throat overwhelm him. “We have to finish this.”

“We do,” Optimus grimaced. They had done the hard and painful part. There was no point delaying the last bit. If they didn’t do it soon, they would have to repeat the process and with Optimus was burning, he did not want that. “Can I top up on energon first? I’m low.”

“Of course,” Ultra gave another sad smile.

“I think you broke something,” Rodimus complained, pushing himself up to lean on the berth, clutching his damaged faceplate. Purple dripped down his chin, and Optimus’s face beamed, feeling a level of satisfaction he hadn’t felt in a long time. Somehow it felt better than defeating Megatron. It was possibly the added level of selfishness at getting back at someone. The fight with Megatron was not personal; this was. “Did you have to do that?”

“Yes,” Optimus nodded, accepting a cube as Ultra passed it to him. It was good quality stuff, the kind of grade he had rarely had before becoming a hero. His energy levels increased almost instantly, and some of the numb throbbings faded as his self-repair gained the energy it needed. “You’re a real jerk; you know that?”

“I was following orders,”

“You were taking fun in them,” Optimus scowled, drinking more as Magnus pressed him to do so. A hand pressed the cube up to his mouth. “You can piss off. Sentinel may not have kicked you out last night, but I am now. Shoo,” he waved his hand at Rodimus as he gulped the last few drops. 

“Someone needs to stay to watch.”

“I can’t feel my legs,” Optimus yelled, throwing the now empty cube at Rodimus. He was hardly about to escape or fight Ultra Magnus. His self-repair was happily giving him reports about how the circuits to his legs were overheated and melted. Someone, Sentinel or possibly Red Alert if they’d had someone look over him, had switched off his pain receptors. At least the damage was not what was doing this to him. He didn’t try to turn them back on. If the damage reports were correct, he wasn’t going to want to until the end of the day at the earliest.“I’m not going anywhere. Piss off and let this bit be private.”

“No privacy in the harem,” Rodimus sniffed, crawling back on the berth and warily sitting next to them. He wiped the energon from his face with the back of his hand. “You need someone to monitor the merge. It’s easy to go deeper than planned for the first few times.”

“And it had to be you.”

“Sentinel wasn’t sure he could watch it,” Rodimus reached forward to touch Optimus’s shoulder.

“So he’s a coward,” Optimus snorted, doing his best to lean away, but Ultra was keeping him in place. Not strange particularly, it went in the long list of negative adjectives that was Sentinel’s list of personality traits. It didn’t matter that Optimus had declared he didn’t want Rodimus touching him. Sentinel was going to leave him alone during arguably the most vulnerable part of all this. 

“He’s not a coward,” Ultra murmured, as Rodimus snarled unhappily at him. 

Optimus laughed, ignoring the disapproval in their fields. The idea of anyone defending Sentinel’s character was hilarious. Most people insulted him, Optimus included. The only good thing he could say about Sentinel was that he had been less of a jerk than usual last night. Arguably he’s been a better friend than he had been in a long time. It didn’t change his past behaviour, though. 

“Optimus, I know he’s not proved himself to be the bravest in the past, but this is something different,” Ultra explained, his tone stern and protective. 

“He hasn’t been able to open his chest plates since the last sparkling was lost,” Rodimus cut in bluntly.

Guilt set in a little and Optimus winced. Eight sparklings was a lot to lose, and realistically Sentinel couldn’t have had much time in between each one. They weren’t old after all, not younglings like Bumblebee or Bulkhead but young. Even if the first one was after Sentinel had been made a Prime, that would have been eight over four vorns. He could understand why it might be hard for Sentinel to open his chest after that or watch someone get sparked up even if that person wanted him there far more than the alternate.

“Watching another person get sparked up fruitlessly might be hard for him,” Optimus breathed, rubbing his chest. Now it was his time to have to carry sparkling after sparkling until the council was happy he could not do it anymore. Why they thought he’d be able to successfully carry after all the other Primes had failed… actually he could guess. The all-spark had blessed him. 

“We don’t know that,” Rodimus argued. 

Ultra Magnus was silent, his field drawn close. There were his sparklings too. It wasn’t clear to Optimus how many he had lost. Rodimus hadn’t mentioned losing any so possibly even getting a mech sparked in the first place was unusual. 

Optimus looked up at the mech and offered a small smile. It wasn’t a happy thing, but Optimus wasn’t sure what to do at that moment. “I guess we better find out,” Optimus reached down and unhooked his manual latches. He wasn’t sure he could willingly open them. Rodimus’s hands rubbed his shoulders and hummed, chin pressing against the side of Optimus’s head. Optimus’s spark tightened, but he pulled the armour aside, it folded neatly away. Leaving just his inner layer to be rolled away. Hints of golden light peeked from between the cracks. 

“Oh,” Ultra murmured, reaching out to trace over one of the cracks.

“Yeah. Joys of being brought back to life, I guess,” Optimus flushed. Ratchet had a similar look on his face the first time he had seen it too. Autobots born of the all-spark, or born of two Autobots, had blue sparks typically. Occasionally an Autobot was born with white, but it was not unheard of. Gold was scarce. It was how the council was sure Optimus had been ‘blessed’.

“Sir, this does go two ways,” Rodimus pressed, though Optimus could see his eyes looking at the golden light too. 

Ultra inhaled with an awkward smile He opened his chest plates, able to do it without forcing himself. The inner chamber curled away too, and Optimus was speechless for a moment. Red. Ultra Magnus’s spark was as red as any Decepticons Optimus had ever seen. Which to be far was two, but it was a solid lead that what they were taught was true. Autobots had blue sparks, Decepticons had red. It wasn’t just the spike size where the Decepticon CNA came out in Ultra Magnus then. 

“This is a secret, of course.”

“Of course,” Optimus nodded, staring at the bundle of light. Bits of blue swirled in it, hinting at the Autobot in him too. Almost as if the proximity of another spark was the cue alone, Optimus’s inner chamber opened. The gold and red lights mixed and Optimus almost could see as the light became too blinding. He leaned forward and pressed into Ultra Magnus. 

Pleasure filled him, and for a moment, nothing was where it was supposed to be. 

Alarm pinged as the transfluid in his chamber started to pulse. His meta filled with joy and a soft hope. Lips kissed his brow, and despite the urge to press forward, hands kept him back. Vague hints of memories teased at the edges of his consciousness. He didn’t care about those. He shut his optics and prayed that this would work. 

* * *

“Arise, Optimus Prime”

He was back in the darkness again. He curled in on himself, this time more aware of his body and the pain that pounded against his entire being. His chest was trembling. Not a sparkling, more ember of it to come purred inside his torso. He put his hand there. The plating was warm. He wouldn’t know for sure if the sparkling would take, not for a few orns. It felt like something had worked though. The heaviness of it tugged around his neck and tightened. He didn’t want to arise. He wanted to rest. He’d done enough for one lifetime. He justed wanted to sleep and recover.

“Arise,” the voice repeated, a giant finger stroking down his back. 

Optimus opened his optics, but no one was there. Yet the whispers of a body was all around him. Shivers ran up and down his plates as if someone was inches away. He twisted, seeing a door to the light in the distance but he didn’t move to it. “Who are you?” 

“Arise, Optimus Prime. Your work has only begun. Your enemies are approaching. You must be strong.”

“We captured Megatron. Our troops are holding his back from attacking.”

“Megatron is not your enemy.”

A flash. Monsters, a mix of organic and metal, a feeling of wrongness about them. Multiple faces, shifting and changing with echoing laughs. Tentacles plugged into ports and overriding systems. Sharp teeth biting and feasting on the flesh of mechs. The feelings of hundreds and thousands of mechs in pain and weeping. The feelings of numbness as a whip across his back. Horror as something attacked his processor, changing who he was at a core level. Then nothingness. 

“They are coming, Optimus Prime. Now arise.”


	12. Chapter 12

He wasn’t sure how long he slept. The human word fit better with what he was doing. Recharging suggested he was unaware of his surroundings. In reality, his spark pulsed with the echos of being so close with another, his legs shuddered as the relay circuits healed and he was no longer unable to move. His value no longer burned. His chronometer jumped, letting him know he was drifting in and out every few cycles. A ping for more energon roused him, his tank grumbling at the lack of fuel.

“Hungry?” 

Optimus nodded, venting slowly as he let his joints shift and stretch. He onlined to Rodimus once again curled around him. His faceplates fixed from the morning. Almost a full day had gone by now, nearly two since they had kidnapped him from his home. That was a lot of time to miss.

“Just how long was Ultra Magnus fragging me?” Optimus frowned, lifting on to one arm to accept the cube. He was no longer on Ultra Magnus’s bed, but on one nearby. The older mech recharging himself, the machines beeping steadily to show his health. It was rather late on the second day too. He couldn’t quite remember when they had merged. 

“Most of the night,” Rodimus admitted, helping Optimus sit up and fluffing the pillows behind him to help make him comfortable. “It’s getting harder for him to produce enough transfluid to be the only primary code-giver.”

“That method was never meant for one mech to do alone,” Optimus snorted, gulping down the cube. Again, it was high-quality stuff, thick and full of energy. Not high-grade but the closest thing a mech would get to it. It was almost sickly sweet, but it had everything a potential carrier needed to encourage their body to accept the sparkling. Sparking alone was the easy part, the hard part was the construction of the sparklings frame. And then there were a thousand and one things that could go wrong. The spark could drop before the structure was ready, the spark could spilt without the resources to create a second frame. The carrier could get hurt, and their frame miscarry the sparkling to fix them first. 

He was only going to have a small window of freedom before the council tried to lock him away from the world. Optimus gulped a second cube as Rodimus passed it, pushing away the overwhelming sense of helplessness that came with that thought. He was not trapped yet. 

“Optimus,” Rodimus started, looking determined for a moment but then it faded as Optimus met his optics dead on. 

“Rodimus,” Optimus offered, shifting the empty cube in his hands ready to throw it at the mech if he said something stupid. Before Earth, he had wondered at Ratchet’s sadistic enjoyment at throwing the nearest tool at a mech doing something idiotic. On Earth, he feared being the target of Ratchet’s impeccable aim. Now? He understood completely the urge to yob something at someone.

“I…” Rodimus was saved from having to say whatever he had revved himself up to say by Sentinel entering the room holding the Magnus’s hammer. The blue mech looked over at them and gave a curious expression at how Optimus was calmly holding a cube and Rodimus was all but cowering away from him. 

“You annoying Optimus again, Roddy?” Sentinel put the hammer back down carefully and wandered over to them as Rodimus spluttered. 

“I haven’t said anything yet!” Rodimus complained, voice low aware of the recharging mech close by. 

“Heard you headbutted him. Good for you, Op,” Sentinel beamed, sitting down at the foot of the berth and resting a hand on his ankle. 

“I warned him not to touch me,” Optimus sniffed, but flicked the cube at Rodimus instead of throwing it at him. Rodimus caught it quickly, expression unhappy. Optimus gave him a big smile, mimicking Starscream at his most condescending. “I thought you were unassigned temporary Magnus?” He didn’t look away from Rodimus though his words were clearly for Sentinel. Rodimus shivered and moved a little further away, curling in on himself slightly. Shame rang in his field and Optimus revelled in it. 

“I was, but I’m the voice of the Magnus currently. Or Rod is. Whichever one of us is free,” Sentinel grimaced, not happy that he had been removed from office. The Autobot masses were demanding Optimus become the new temporary Magnus. The stick of rejection lingered in Sentinel’s field. He’d worked hard and got no thanks for it. 

“I see,” Optimus nodded, rubbing his chest idly. It ached. 

“Think you’ve sparked?” Sentinel asked, voice soft and hesitate. 

“I suspect I have. Won’t know if I can carry it for another few orns,” Optimus shrugged. And even then there would be no guarantees that he could carry it to term. Sentinel proved that. “Any word from my lot?”

“Nothing important,” Sentinel snorted. “Something about Bulkhead attempting to talk to Swoop tomorrow. Well, in a few cycles, I suppose.” With the time difference between Earth and Cybertron, that made sense. Optimus didn’t miss how the glyphs Sentinel used for Swoop had one for an unknown fraction. Optimus used the one for neutral, but it was better than Sentinel declaring him a Decepticon based on the very little he know. “I’ve put in the request for the Jet-twins to go to Earth soon. The science ministry wants to keep them here long enough to guard Sunstorm and Ramjet on a flight each.”

“That’s surprisingly kind of them,” Optimus didn’t trust it.

“It was Wheeljack who put in the request,” Sentinel pulled a datapad out of his subspace and passed it to him. “Your younglings are fine, Op. Perceptor wants to put sensors to monitor their spark rates while flying. Nothing invasive or passed what Jetstorm and Jetfire had to put up with during their own sparkling years.” 

The emotionless drone had wanted to do more, but Wheeljack had stepped in from the request pad. Perceptor wanted to let one fly and not the other, testing how long it would take for a flightless seeker to lose processor power. It had been rejected. Optimus tightened his field around him as horror filled him. Perceptor was even going to use Ramjet as the grounded flyer as he had yet to show any sense of self, unlike Sunstorm. If Wheeljack had not put a stop to it, the council would have allowed it. They would have let Perceptor remove the wings of a frame sparked to fly. 

“Optimus?”

He wanted to purge. “Have you read this?” Optimus demanded eyes stuck on the words. He could almost hear the cold tone Perceptor spoke with about this kind of thing. The council would deny it, Wheeljack would deny it, but Optimus suspected Perceptor’s ethical and mortality cortex's had been deleted the day he wiped his personality too 

“Yes, I have,” Sentinel nodded. “Relax. We won’t let him get to your baby flyers.”

Optimus needed to get them out of that prison and back to Earth as soon as possibly. His eyes re-read the word Perceptor had used to describe them. Seekers? It was an old glyph. One that he’d heard before. His processor did a quick search as he checked over Wheeljack’s reasonings for stopping the experiments. Illegal was the biggest point, underlined several times. Then the glyph clicked. 

Starscream used it! His optics brightened as a few dots joined together. Starscream, the glyphs in his name referred to him as the leader of the seekers. 

“They’re Decepticons,” Rodimus frowned.

“They aren’t even half a vorn old. Heck, they aren’t even a stellar-cycle old yet,” Optimus snapped at Rodimus. He cooled as Rodimus put his hands up in surrender. Rodimus hadn’t been arguing, only curious as to why Optimus would have put them into his care. “I know it’s hard for people to understand why I would care about them, but you didn’t see Starscream blow up his other clones to try to kill us. You haven’t met Sunstorm or Ramjet. They aren’t just clones anymore. They have their own sparks.”

“And Optimus’s spark is too big to ignore their suffering,” Sentinel gave Rodimus a knowing look. “So we are going to have to get used to it.” Or deal with an upset Optimus, something Sentinel knew was more trouble than it was worth. Ethical dilemmas ruining every waking cycle was not fun, and Optimus took pleasure in designing his questions. 

Rodimus tilted his head, his frown getting deeper as he tried to understand what Sentinel meant by that. “We’re not going to be their guardians.”

“No, but you will go check up on them when the council forbids me from checking on the Decepticons,” Optimus declared with a not so warm smile. “Them, and the Generals. Need to make sure someone’s keeping an optic or something very illegal could happen.” They could be killed without trial and disappeared into the mists of time. It would take very little to do at the moment, and everything about that idea sang with wrongness to Optimus. The council would if it could. He was sure of it. 

“The council hasn’t forbidden you from doing anything,” Rodimus puzzled. 

“Yet,” 

The air in the room got colder. Sentinel said nothing, but his field agreed with Optimus’s words. Rodimus nodded slowly. “I understand.” He didn’t. He understood Optimus would make things very difficult if they refused. He didn’t understand why Optimus was determined to keep the Decepticons alive and in good health. The younglings made sense, but the Generals deserved the rust in the pit. 

“Good,” Optimus closed his shutters. He may have slept a long time, but his body was drained. “I want to go see them tomorrow. Need to ask Megatron about something,” he shifted, laying down again. 

“Ok,” Sentinel offered, hand moving from Optimus’s ankle. “Do you want company?”

The snort was sincere. “Not until ordered, Sent. Not sure you or Rodimus would help matters coming with me.” There was bound to be some jibes and insults about his new position in life. Optimus was going to have to steel himself for it. He needed information, and he needed to get as much information from Megatron as he could before that avenue was blocked. Afterwards, well, he knew where he could go to get through the Autobot security systems. 

Rodimus’s field was curious, but the mech said nothing as he settled against Optimus again. Optimus growled but shifted, so they were more comfortable. Rodimus’s field felt suitably hesitate against his. Rodimus knew Optimus did not want to recharge next to him. Problem was, and Optimus hated the fact he knew this automatically, the harem mechs were likely expected to get along outside of these rooms. While Optimus and Rodimus had never been close, they had been friendly. If Optimus started being cold and hostile to him, others would get suspicious. 

Not to mention, Ultra Magnus was not the sort of mech to put up with his underlings arguing. His lovers were no exception to that. Optimus was going to have to forgive Rodimus sooner or later. The idea rankled.

He opened an optic to track where Sentinel was, unable to keep the disappointment from his frame when he realised the mech was behind Rodimus. Fine, whatever. Rodimus was upset because Optimus was angry at him for how he acted while Optimus was being raped. Sentinel was comforting Rodimus, not him. Frag the lot of them. 

“Optimus?”

“What?” The barked word was hostile. If Optimus thought he could manage it, he’d be out of the room and heading back to his own apartment in a sparkbeat. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Rodimus admitted, voice soft but his field was sincere. “I thought it would be easier if I acted like this was a willing act. Less like you were being forced into this.”

“I see,” Optimus bit out, stopping himself from screaming insults at the mech. Mostly he didn’t want to deal with this anymore that night. The damage was done. The milk had been spilt. And while he would have to feign or actually forgive the mech at some point, tonight was not that night. “Goodnight, Rodimus.”

“Optimus…” Rodimus repeated, field flaring with worry and panic at the idea his words had somehow made things worse instead of better.

“I can scream at you, or we can recharge, take your pick,” Optimus offered, venom dripping from his sweet words. 

Rodimus’s field tightened in on himself, and he felt the mech nod. “Good night, Optimus.”


	13. Chapter 13

“I have you,” Rodimus beamed down at him, as he held Optimus’s legs open. His spike jutting out proudly, rubbing over Optimus’s torso panels as Rodimus wriggled his hips excited. He was over the moon to be the one to donate to the sparkling. Optimus stared at the thing, dread building at the sight. It was dripping with precum and Optimus could feel it pulsing against him. It wasn’t a typical spike, it had been modified. It wasn’t huge, nothing like Ultra Magnus’s obscenely massive spike. It had bumps, however, bugling lines rippling across the thing. 

Optimus shook his head, trying to put away. The gag in his voice made it impossible to protest. His hands were tried about his head tight, and while his legs weren’t pinned, for some reason, he couldn’t move them.

“We need to do this. We need the sparkling to be healthy,” Rodimus cooed, leaning down to kiss Optimus’s torso. As Optimus looked at him, it was extended dramatically. Ballooning uncomfortably big as he watched it. His circuits fired uselessly as the weight in his torso weighted on his relays and made it impossible to move even if he had been able to. He felt about to explode, his armour cracking from the strain of containing something so big inside of him.

Optimus tried to scream, but the sound was muffled and useless. 

“Optimus?” Sentinel’s voice drifted from somewhere.

“I think you’re stretched enough. I promise, this is going to feel amazing,” Rodimus purred, the rumbling running throughout his plate. “The council paid for it. They wanted you to enjoy everything. It will make it so much easier for the next time.”

“Don’t!” Optimus pleaded, pressing it into his field so even if his voice was soundless, his body spoke for him.

Rodimus pressed in. Pain sparked at the corners of his optics, and his vents opened desperate for air. It didn’t hurt as much as it aches. Every bump moving over too genitive nodes, and Rodimus not wasting his time as he began to pump in and out, laughing in joy. Optimus couldn’t feel his lower half, but he could feel every inch of the spike, every slight movement. 

“Optimus!” Sentinel’s voice stressed, and someone was shaking him. 

Sentinel’s blurry face appeared over his and Rodimus was not longer thrusting in him. Optimus blinked, reaching up to wipe away the solvent from his face as he realised why he couldn’t see clearly. A sob spluttered from his intake, taking on an almost hysterical edge to it. He reached forward and grabbed Sentinel’s shoulders, holding them tight as he shuddered. Sentinel kissed his audial, hugging him back tight as he murmured gentle comforts.

Ah. Nightmares, that bit of trauma. 

He let himself collapse for a moment, clutching to Sentinel like he was a sparkling himself. Sentinel’s field blanketed him with love and safety. Optimus basked in it for a moment. Ignoring the fact Sentinel had been apart of this for the moment. 

Hesitate hands rested on his shoulders. Optimus pulled back from Sentinel to look at Rodimus, the mech’s expression concerned. That look, for one moment, reminded Optimus of Bumblebee. Young and uncertain of what to do. Rodimus was the youngest Prime ever, Optimus couldn’t remember how old he was, but Rodimus couldn’t be that much older than Bumblebee. Optimus’s spark was vulnerable thanks to his nightmare, and a touch of sympathy filled his spark. Recharging next to someone having a nightmare was not fun. Optimus reached forward and grabbed the back of the mech’s head, bumping their heads together lightly. Rodimus pressed closer, his field pressing against his more firmly, adding an extra layer of comfort to the moment. 

“Sorry for disturbing for you,” he vented, letting go of Sentinel. He rubbed the back of his head, closing his optics. His spark was loosening, no longer gripped tight from the dream. That was not pleasant. Better than the similar nightmares he’d had after the Decepticons taunts. Though they had never raped him, the words had got into his processor and created all kinds of fun images to haunt him. Now he had Rodimus fragging him in his darkest nights.

“Optimus?” Ultra Magnus called.

He looked up and over at their leader. The mech looked close to trying to get up and over to him. Optimus smiled weakly at him. “I’m fine.” 

“Sounded like a bad nightmare,” Sentinel murmured. He hadn’t let go of Optimus yet, his arms hanging loosely around his torso. 

Optimus didn’t say anything or move out of his arms. Right now, he wanted all the comfort he could get. Even if it was from Sentinal. His hands rubbed his torso, flat as it should be. He was going to blame Sari and Ratchet for that part of the dream. Autobots, and Decepticons, did not expand when carrying a sparkling. The sparkling frame conformed to the shape of the carrier. If the carrier was small, as was the sparkling. It wasn’t going to be making his torso so big he couldn’t move. Or makes his armour break from him. 

Rodimus having a modified spike, that was a more interesting part of the dream. He looked at the mech suspiciously. Rodimus’s field fluttered uncertainly as he saw Optimus’s expression. 

“Optimus?”

“Nothing,” Optimus shook his head, his chronometer informing him it was too early to be up yet. “We can recharge again.”

“You sure you don’t want to talk about it,” Sentinel offered.

Optimus almost laughed at his tone. The words were uncertain, and his field sang how uncomfortable he was at the whole idea of talking. Sentinel was not a comforter. Not fair, he gave great hugs. Sentinel was still terrible at talking to people when they were upset. Sentinel offered because it was the right thing to do, not because he wanted to do something sappy. He leaned back on the mech, letting his now stable field mesh with both mechs. He could go back to making it clear to Rodimus in the morning that he didn’t like him when the dream was long gone from his conscious. 

“No, Sent,” He shook his head and gave one last hesitate smile at Ultra Magnus. “There are only a few more jours until its the early shift. I won’t have time for another nightmare.”

“Come here,” Ultra Magnus ordered, his voice gentle as he reached towards Optimus.

Sentinel let go of him, and Rodimus moved out of his way too. Wiping a stray drop of solvent from his cheek, Optimus walked over. His valve twinged as he stood, but his legs carried with to the other berth. He sat on the edge, unsure. Ultra Magnus may have fragged his valves to pieces, but that didn’t mean Optimus was suddenly at ease around him. This was the mech who he had seen as his mentor. The fact he was going to have to continue to let Ultra Magnus frag him was unnerving. 

The gentle field pulsing from the older mech was fond and kind. Rodimus and Sentinel’s promises that Ultra treated them well seemed truthful enough. A large hand ran up his back, and Optimus leaned into it. He needed to cope with Ultra touching him. No one could not know what was happening. Or rather, the public could not know what happened. 

“Nothing bad is going to happen, Optimus.”

“I doubt that, sir,” Optimus snorted. His arms crossed, and his spark clenched. Either, he was going to take, upon which he had a steller-cycle of being continuously pumped full of transfluid by the three mechs. If he was fortunate, the sparkling would carry to term. At which point the council would no doubt force him to carry another one, or possibly an entire brood. Or he was going to lose it and be forced to try again. If it didn’t take, see the former. Optimus’s valve burned with pain at the very idea of being stuck of Ultra’s spike for so long again. Maybe next time, he could convince them to spread it over a few days? Or get them to pump Ultra Magnus and inject him that way. Of course, that required them to start collecting the transfluid.

“Nothing bad is going to happen tonight, then,” Ultra Magnus offered, pulling him on the bed. He paused as some of the wires attached to Ultra Magnus tugged tight. “I wish dearly I was not confined like this,” Ultra grumbled, looking over at Sentinel with a signal. “I could hold you all tight rather this.” 

Optimus wished he wasn’t as weak as this because then the council wouldn’t have ordered Optimus raped. Not that he was going to say it out loud.

“The bed in the harem is far more comfortable for big groups of people,” Sentinel agreed as he hopped off the berth and moved it closer to Ultra Magnus. Optimus looked around and realised what the difference between his fragging and their recharging was was. The two berths had been joined up for his initiation. Also, Optimus generally wasn’t sure when someone had removed the chain on his pede. He was no longer restrained. 

Rodimus shifted to help as he put the sidebar down. Ultra moved his wires out the way. “We’ll show Optimus it soon. The council will want him to move in with us.”

The groan that came out of Optimus was heartfelt. On the list of last things he wanted to do, move in the harem was reasonably high on the list. Moving back in with Sentinel rated high on that lists too. He liked his own space. Living with Sentinel again was going to be a painful mix.

“I’m sorry,” Ultra Magnus murmured.

“I lived with Sentinel long enough in the academy. Do I have to live with again now?”

“Oi!”Sentinel growled, irritation spiking. Astonished amusement flooded Ultra Magnus’s field, and Rodimus giggled, falling in between Ultra Magnus and Optimus to snuggle up with them. “Like you were any easier!”

“I was cleaner,” Optimus drawled, poking Sentinel with his pede as the mech connected the two beds with a click. “Which is weird given you’re the one with the germ phobia.”

Sentinel rumbled but leaned forwards and kissed Optimus on the lips. Optimus kissed back ignoring how Rodimus was pressed against his plating. “I’m not that bad, and unlike you, I don’t bring home strays,” he taunted, helping Ultra Magnus lay back down. “I look forward to explaining to the council we need to keep your apartment, or we risk your team crashing with us every time they are on Cybertron.”

“Ratchet usually stays on Omega,” Optimus sniffed.

“Which leaves the younglings. Tell me why they can’t get a hotel like everyone else.”

“Let’s see. Might be the lack of credits from having a low ranking job despite it being a crucial duty. Or possibly fear of being alone and vulnerable due to past experiences meaning they prefer to sleep in piles. The fact most hotels won’t put Bulkhead up for looking too much a warbuild might also be a contender. Do I need to list more?” Optimus’s voice got darker and angrier as the list got longer. He let them push him down and curled on his side, glaring at Sentinel. Rodimus cuddled him from behind, arm slung over his waist lightly. 

Sentinel grimaced at the true words and lay down next to him, shifting so Optimus’s head was under his chin. “Fine. Those are decent reasons, I suppose. I’ll make sure they don’t get rid of the apartment.” 

“Next time someone refuses to serve Bulkhead, inform me. I’ll deal with them personally,” Ultra Magnus promised, not happy to hear that at all. Some mechs forgot it was the colour of someone’s optics not what frame they were in that marked their fraction. He didn’t like hearing that people had been unkind to a youngling unfortunate enough to be sparked in a bigger than standard frame. 

“I will,” Optimus promised, shutting his optics and leaning his forehead against Sentinel’s chest. He needed to recharge. He was going to need all his wits about him come morning.


	14. Chapter 14

“And you are?”

“Me Swoop, them Frenzy and Rumble.”

“I see, why are you calling?”

“Need to talk to Optimus,” an unfamiliar but very young voice stated. There was a slur to the words, a rougher accent than average. Almost like how some of the youngsters at the academy sometimes tried to make themselves sound tougher. “Told you we could break through the system and locate him,” the voice continued proud of its accomplishment.

“You’re Swoop?” Rodimus said, sounding distinctly out of his depth. 

Optimus onlined and sat up fast. “Swoop?”

“Optimus!” Swoop beamed, his wings twitching in the backwards excitedly. Swoop’s wings were not as flexible or emotive as flyer wings, but some movements were the same. 

A thousand questions moved through Optimus’s head as he looked at the scene in front of them. Ultra Magnus’s private vid screen now was streaming their headquarters on Earth. With none of the Earth Autobots on view, but with a Dinobot and two tiny mechs who looked smaller than Sari sitting on the control panel. In the background, he could dimly hear Wreakgar declaring himself helpful, and Soundwaves’ fluttered vocalisations. So many questions to pick from and only so little time. There was a familiar screech and a loud scrapping noise of someone being dragged away. A typical day on Earth it seemed. 

“When did you start talking?” Optimus offered, glancing around the current room he was in. Ultra Magnus had a painfully neutral expression on, his eyes locked on the two mini-cons. Frag, the two little mechs had red visors. Swoop had blue, thankfully and the Autobot symbol on his chest. The mech was never going to trust him with command again after this. Rodimus was watching with wide optics, legs crossed. An excited anticipation of what was about to happen rolling off him. Sentinel was buzzing, keeping his mouth shut but Optimus could feel how much he wanted to shout about infiltration and laws broken. Luckily it was fought down by his curiosity. 

“Him Prowl help teach Dinobots how to speak.”

“We Earth mechs have problem,” one of the tiny mechs said, mimicking Swoop’s strange speech pattern. “Three to be exact, but one’s more of a result of the first two,” it said thoughtfully. The one speaking was a mostly blue shade, with black forearms that looked like an earthen sound system device. The second mech was almost his exact copy, only he had a red frame instead. The colours were oddly Autobot compared for what Optimus had seen on most Decepticons. 

“That so,” Optimus nodded. “I assume that with Swoop in the base, Bulkhead talked to you about attacking the tourists?” 

Ultra Magnus twitched at that. Double frag, this was not a great way to introduce the mech to some of the more colourful characters living on Earth. Rodimus was almost bursting with laughter next to him. Only more reason for Optimus to make life hell for him. Optimus hit his shoulder lightly. Rodimus leaned at him heavily, blanketing him with amusement and fondness. Optimus let him, burying the urge to scream under the mask of being a commander. 

“Him Bulkhead talk to Swoop. Me Swoop will stop attacking shiny boats when shiny boats stop invading Dinobot island,” Swoop sniffed unhappily, folding his arms and taking on a distinctively Starscream pose. Flyer poser, possibly? Must be something coded into being a flyer because Jetfire and Jetstorm could also pull off the look. “That not problem.”

“What is the problem?” Optimus asked, feeling a headache building behind his optics. 

“Soundwave: Made mistake,” a monotoned voice declared, a rather scratched up Soundwave plodding over to the communication’s console. His face shield was firmly in place, but the rest of his body language screamed that the youngling was embarrassed. There was a cat in his arms, a metal cat, which thankfully for the moment was hiding Soundwave’s Decepticon symbol. 

“Bit of a big mistake, Dad,” the red one laughed.

“Rumble: Be quiet,” Soundwave commanded, but his frame language didn’t change. 

“What happened?” Optimus tried to remain calm. The questions about why Rumble was calling Soundwave ‘Dad’ could wait until later. Soundwave had some of the most dangerous powers of the Earth mechs. A big mistake from him could be very concerning.

“Soundwave: needed energon. Stealing: not a longterm solution. Needed to make an alliance with Cybertron mechs to ensure food supply for symbionts,” Soundwave explained. Optimus could feel the other bots around him wondering why all the Earth-made mechs had strange speech patterns. Not that Optimus could remember Soundwave talking like this before. Another thing to add to the endless list of questions. “Solution: help Autobots in trade.”

“Ok, so where’s the mistake?” 

“So the yellow one? Bumbledoit? He was complaining about how he wished he was more like the characters in his game.”

“Strong, smarter, able to catch projectiles and send them back at his enemies with enough force to blow them up,” Rumble made exploding noises excitedly. Hands gesturing and almost falling off the console as he did so. Swoop reached out and stabilised him.

Optimus nodded in understanding. It sounded like one of Bumblebee’s silly video games, alright. 

“So Dad used his skills to let Bumble be able to it all.”

“Only, now he doesn’t remember who he is, or who his friends are.”

“And he’s running around jumping people from dark corners and defeating them for his honour!” 

“Dad messed up when he was connecting his new coding to the personality matrix.”

If there had been any doubt that the two tiny mechs were twins, that was enough to confirm it. Only twins could finish and interchange between another mech’s sentences like that. Optimus’s shoulders slumped, and he rubbed the side of his face. There was the small consolation that Soundwave looked like he wished the ground would swallow him up. Youngling, he was a youngling who was two stellar cycles old and did not have full control of his abilities yet. This certainly was a big problem.

“Bumblebee has forgotten who he is and is sniping humans?” Optimus clarified.

“Not humans,” Swoop shook his head. “Other robots. But the problem is, we Earth mechs can’t catch him Bumblebee. Him Soundwave gave Bumblebee super awesome ninja gladiator programming.”

“You don’t say it like that!

“Its super awesome ninja gladiaTOORRR,” 

“Rumble, Frenzy: Stop.”

“Oh, the game he got,” Rodimus nodded next to Optimus, remembering that little detail from the last update Optimus had received. “Ninja Gladiator 4, wasn’t it? So, you’re telling us, he thinks he’s the game character?”

“Yes.”

“Great,” Optimus groaned. “So that’s where Bulkhead and Ratchet are currently? Tracking Bumblebee?” he pleaded, hoping that the two trained Autobot mechs were searching for their waylaid member. Not that either of them was a good fit for capturing the smaller mech. Ignoring the tiny mechs on the screen, Sari was the only one small enough to chase after someone Bumblebee’s size with any success. Prowl could have but… It didn’t matter. He could see where this was going Soundwave couldn’t fix the programming with Bumblebee there. 

“Not quite,” the blue twin giggled. 

“Problem 2 and 3: Not Soundwave’s fault,” Soundwave intoned.

“Ok, what is Problem 2,” Optimus did not want to ask. He really did not want to ask, not in front of Ultra Magnus but Earth was never that kind or simple. 

“Him Ratchet and Him Screechy One fought over the shiny box and destroyed it over Dinobot island. Us Dinobots have new brothers,” Swoop smiled. “Them Slag and Sludge. Them rampaging in downtown Detroit. Him Bulkhead and them Constructicons are trying to capture them now.” Swoop’s smile remained, the Dinobot completely unconcerned with the fact his new ‘brothers’ were retrying the city. 

“The Constructicons are helping Bulkhead?”

“Scrapper and Mixmaster are giving out business cards to offer their services to rebuild at a nice price,” one of the twins said brightly. Frenzy and Rumble were enjoying the chaos immensely. Decepticons through and through, Optimus shook his head. 

“Fanzone is going to dismantle me,” Optimus exhaled, defeat settling into his field. Things never rained on Earth, they poured.“Shiny box?”

“Starscream: used box to make clones. New Constructicons: made with the component. New seekers also made to complete trines. New Dinobots accident of fight.” Soundwave explained, stroking the metal cat in his arms. It purred happily, a long tail stretching out and waving lazily in the air. It was almost cute, if it wasn’t for the fact everything was insane. 

“And your new additions?” Sentinel demanded, bursting out of his forced silence dramatically.

“Soundwave: built.”

“Ok,” Optimus nodded, waving Sentinel down as the mech tried to get in the middle of the vid camera. “What is problem 3 and where is Ratchet.”

“Our friends on the moon have to move here. Him Ratchet want to repair them seekers. Him Ratchet fixing him Thundercracker. Her Arcee injured from him Bumblebee. Me Swoop help fix leg, but him Ratchet want her Arcee to wait a few more days before tracking him Bumblebee again.”

Of course, Ratchet wanted to fix them all up. It was in his fragging nature to do stupid things like fix Starscream of all mechs. Not to mention his collection of sidekicks. Even if Sunstorm and Ramjet were becoming individuals, Optimus doubted the ones living with the Con were having much luck. Bumblebee injuring Arcee was unexpected. The femme was well equipped to deal with troublesome younglings and spies. The programming must have worked very well. 

“Where’s Grimlock?” Optimus did a mental count of everyone on Earth and where he knew their current locations were. If Swoop was in the Autobot base of operation and the new Dinobots were rampaging in downtown Detroit, where was the Dinobot leader?”

“Him Grimlock sitting on Screechy One.”

“Him Grimlock playing prison guard,” Rumble mocked again. 

“You Rumble: Grounded.”

“DAD!”

“Thank you for that delightful report,” Optimus said, a light-hearted feeling swimming around him. “Rumble, Frenzy? Do not hack Cybertron’s systems again. We do not want Cybertron looking closely for you. Soundwave, can you help capture Bumblebee? Did you not leave a tracker or something in him to monitor him with?” There were many things Optimus disagreed with when it came to Soundwave. One thing he was confident on however was that scientists and engineers never leave their work unwatched for long. There was no way Soundwave had not put some kind of tracking device on Bumblebee.

Soundwave lifted a piece of familiar yellow panelling. A beeping device was implanted on it. 

“Super awesome ninja gladiator,” Frenzy sang, mimicking the ridiculous song commercial key to key. The cat banged his tail on Frenzy’s head. Frenzy scowled, glaring at the cat. The cat purred, and cuddled up were in Soundwave’s arms.

“Can you Optimus send him Prowl?” Swoop pleaded. “Him Prowl ninja. Actual ninja, maybe can beat programmed ninja.”

“Prowl can’t help,” Optimus murmured. They had explained Prowl was dead to the Dinobots a few times, but that never stopped the Dinobots insisting he was still alive. Given Optimus wasn’t convinced Prowl was not alive, he didn’t try to argue with them. After the first few times of thinking a mech was dead and finding them live again, followed by his own resurrection, a mech stopped trusting dead declarations. “Maybe Jazz?” he looked at Sentinel. 

The blue bot was almost purple as he held in his words. He deflated, and his vents gasped for air. “Jazz is unavailable. All of the cyberninja’s got recalled to the dojo. We have received regular comms to confirmed they are all fine, but we’re not sure how long they will be holed up for.”

“Well, we need someone agile enough to catch Bumblebee with ninja programming,” Optimus grimaced. “Do you have Jazz’s comm number?”

“Yes, but they have a comm blocked up around the dojo. Ignoring the official line, none are getting in or out.”

“We could,” Frenzy and Rumble said in unison, hopeful grins on their faces. 

“Did you not hear when I said about NOT getting noticed by Cybertron?” Optimus asked dryly. Both mechs pouted. “Trust me, you don’t want to end up where the other Cons on Cybertron are. Ultra Magnus, could you contact the dojo?” He dared to look at his leader. Optimus wasn’t sure what the mech was thinking right now. 

“I can,” Ultra Magnus nodded. “Frenzy and Rumble, follow Optimus Prime’s orders and don’t hack Cybertron again. We’ll get you some backup from the dojo. Is there anything else?”

“I don’t think so,” Frenzy frowned, Rumble repeating what they had told them and counting his fingers. 

“In which case, we’ll be in touch.”

“And send us a list of the new mechs and their transformations!” Optimus called before the call clicked off.


	15. Chapter 15

“So, what does Swoop transform into?” Rodimus asked, twisting to lay on his back on Optimus’s lap. “He has wings, but I’ve never seen a flyer look like that before.”

“A pterodactyl.”

“A what?”

“It's an ancient animal from Earth,” Sentinel explained, his voice confidant. “Three of the Allspark shards placed in statues of them. Grimlock, the leader and the only one to talk until now, is a Tyrannosaurus and Snarl is a Triceratops. They fight very well and despite their tendency towards violence, are Autobot sparked. Unlike every other mech that was sparked by the Allspark.” 

Optimus tore his glaze from Ultra Magnus to look at Sentinel astonished by how much the mech knew about the Dinobots. For someone who had called them primitive scrap heaps, it was surprising. 

“What?” Sentinel shrugged. “After getting attacked by them, I did some research.”

“I see. Also, that’s unfair. Wreck-Gar is also Autobot sparked.”

“I read the reports on that mech. Didn’t he change his side like ten times on the same day?” 

“Because the Constructicons haven’t done the same multiple times,” Optimus grimaced. It must be a side effect of how they were built. No Autobot youngling would dare switch the Decepticons and then back again. Any Decepticon doing that would be killed. Loyalty was hardwired into each of their codes. It was only when the code was warped beyond recognition that mech changed allegiances. “The younglings are rather prone to joining up with whichever side is more helpful to them at the moment. Doesn’t change my point. Wreck-Gar has an Autobot spark.”

“Sounds fascinating,” Rodimus rumbled, laughter in his body language.

“Optimus Prime,” Ultra rumbled, the sound rolling through him. Ultra Magnus was not happy with what he had seen. “Just how many Decepticons are you protecting?”

“More than I thought,” Optimus exhaled, rubbing the back of his head. “At least Ratchet has stopped the ‘shiny box’. I can’t wait for that report.” He paused a moment. Another new word to research now:‘Trine’. “Hopefully one telling us if Frenzy and Rumble are robots or mechs. They acted like younglings but if Soundwave built them…” he trailed off, not sure where that sentence was going. Soundwave had created a wave of toys before. It did not seem out of his skill-set to make a sentient robot. 

“I would like to read those reports too,” Ultra boomed, voice rolling with disappointment.

“Optimus, you seem remarkably calm for that update,” Sentinel noted, his voice suspicious. “Are you not concerned with the fact your team are outnumbered to an unknown degree?” 

“It’s Earth. We always were outnumbered.” Optimus grumbled, pushing Rodimus off his lap and standing up. Or rather, attempting to, arms grabbed at him and pulled him back into the heart of the pile of mechs. Sentinel kissed his shoulder. Ultra Magnus’s hold around his waist was warm and tight, the disappointment in his field not disappearing but mixing with fondness. Rodimus settled back between his legs and Optimus resisted the urge to yell in protest. He bristled for a moment before exhaling and letting them hold him as they wanted. “We need to contact Jazz.” 

“Hush,” Ultra Magnus bumped the back of his head. 

“To deal with a hacked Bumblebee,” 

“We know,” Ultra murmured, a hand moving to rub his shoulder. 

Optimus tensed as hands pressed on the more intimate areas. Blue rubbed over his chest, lips kissed the back of his helm and orange caressed his groin plates. “No,” he shook his head, beginning to struggling. “Enough!” Optimus was ashamed to admit fear flooded his field. They couldn’t expect him to, no, it wasn’t happening. The line was drawn now. Before, the previous night, that had been an order. Something that had to be done. This didn’t. He didn’t care if it was to bond or if it was to encourage a stronger sparkling. Here, right now, regardless of the reason, his value hurt, his spark ached, and the idea of fragging sent shivers down his frame. The answer was no. 

Ultra and Sentinel paused. Hesitation danced between his fear, mixing into a potent sensation of helplessness. Sentinel tried to kiss his lips, but Optimus pulled away. He wasn’t playing this game. Not at all. 

“But,” Rodimus looked up at Optimus, optics open and confused. “We need to contribute to make the sparkling stronger.”

“Not today,” Optimus pressed, reaching down to cup the back of Rodimus’s helm. He was young, start with kindness, and then if there were no signs of learning, he'd start hitting Rodimus again. Until he pissed off Optimus again. This was not what he wanted, not at all. He did not want to spend his day and nights fearing the next time they were going to spread his legs. “Not for a few more days if you want any chance of me accepting this.” 

“It would help convince the Council you’re loyal.”

“Then do it, but my answer to the question is no,” Optimus challenged, twisting to look Ultra in the optics. 

Sentinel’s field meshed into his. Sentinel didn’t want to hurt him. Sentinel was watching Ultra with the same intensity of Optimus. Optimus judging, Sentinel praying. Optimus let Sentinel grabbed his hand, servos tangling together. Sentinel knew this line too. This was not an order, this was a choice.

One that took longer than Optimus would have liked. 

“Ok,” 

Optimus sank back down, not bothering to hide his trembling. He didn’t cuddle into Ultra Magnus, but he was limp for a moment on Sentinel. Hands continued to roam over him but no longer groping intimate areas. It felt more reassuring now. Something shifted, and decisions had been made. The line had been acknowledged. A sparkling did not need contributions until the second and third phase of the carrying. It helped in the first, but he had only just sparked if that. He could heal before being forced to take a spike again. Sentinel kissed his forehead and Optimus vented for a moment. 

“Jazz,” he declared, sitting back up and pulling himself back together forcibly. 

Ultra Magnus triggered the comm call. 

Sentinel murmured in Optimus’s audial. Stupid things but Optimus could feel in Sentinel’s field they weren’t just for him. They were for Sentinel too. It would be too easy to break Sentinel right now, but Optimus couldn’t. He needed the mech to be his ally. As ridiculous as that was. Optimus needed Sentinel. 

Someone was going to pay for this. Optimus wasn’t sure who, but someone was going to suffer for this indignity. 

The call connected. It took a few moments of Ultra posturing and ordering, but eventually, the familiar blue visor filled the screen. Optimus gently pushed Sentinel away. Optimus knew a little about the ninjas from Prowl. Prowl may have been the last trained, and the dojo had been mostly empty during that time, but Yoketron taught Prowl the codes. Sharing information with outsiders was strictly prohibited, even to the leader of the Autobots. 

They were very lucky Jazz had come after Prowl had taught them all a few tricks. Mostly diffusion moves, nothing they couldn’t have picked up on their own, apart from Bumblebee, Prowl broke the rules with Bumblebee. 

“Magnus, Boss mech,” Jazz beamed on screen, eyes taking in the whole scene. “Wha’ goin’ on?” The visor narrowed. 

“Too much to explain in too much detail,” Optimus shook his head. “There’s a situation on Earth we need your help on. The clones are down from the moon. There was a fight above Dinobot island involving the thing Starscream was using to make clones. There are now seven Constructicons, an unknown about of clones, five Dinobots and Soundwave has been building his own minions too.”

Jazz whistled. “So Earth as normal.”

“Sadly. Here’s the issue, Soundwave decided to do something nice to try to be allied with us to get fuel for his minions.”

“And it wen’ badly?”

Optimus snorted. “When does it ever go well?”

The laughter from Jazz was genuine and helped his spark settle. He missed his friend. “True enou’. Not quite seein’ how I can help?” Not in a way which would require him to leave the dojo before the end of whatever meet was going on at the moment. 

“Soundwave hacked Bumblebee and gave him all the powers of his latest game’s main character. He didn’t get the personalty matrix linked right so Bumblebee is unaware of who he is and who his allies are. Bumblebee’s a small bot compared to every other mech on Earth,” Optimus grimaced. “Plus, the fallout from the other situation has everyone busy anyway. The new Dinobots are rampaging.”

Jazz twitched. 

“Jazz?”

“Ninja Gladiator 4?” Jazz asked, his voice neutral, his familiar accent gone. 

“The one and the same. Not sure how good a ninja Bumblebee is now. It is false training but…”

“His size makes it complicated,” 

Optimus shared a grimace with the mech. He shuttered his optics twice as he noticed something else and let the grimace shift into a frown. “Jazz? Is there a sparkling on your back?”

The ninja broke from his facade and grabbed the screaming sparking from his shoulder and bounced it as it cried. It was small, likely only half a steller cycle old and pure white. Jazz murmured to it and reluctantly let it re-magnetise to his plating. The tiny thing stopped screaming and started chirping instead, making itself comfortable above Jazz’s spark. He looked sheepishly at the camera. “We have a few runnin’ about. ‘is one likes stayin’ close,” Jazz patted its back and watched it for a moment. There was a vague look of fondness on his face, but as he looked back up at the screen, it turned serious again. “Magnus, sir. If you can talk to Dai Atlas, I can get to Earth within the next day and help deal with this issue.”

“Certainly,” Ultra nodded. 

“I’ll prepare then.”

“And make sure no sparklings sneak along with you,” Sentinel snorted.

Jazz scowled at Sentinel. “I’ll talk to you soon, boss. If this dolt has hurt you again, let me know.” He gave a two-fingered salute before doing a much more formal sign off to Ultra Magnus and disappeared from the screen. 

Optimus pushed off the bed and let Ultra Magnus talk to Dai Atlas in peace. Sentinel followed him, stopping him from leaving the room with a tug on his hand. Optimus looked at him but didn’t try again. Rodimus watched them but didn’t join. The two of them waited for the call to be over, Sentinel’s field pulsing with unsaid insults and demands as to why Jazz would assume it was Sentinel hurting Optimus. Optimus’s field was unconcerned. Sentinel should know the answer to that. Plus he had. Not on purpose or out of spite, but he had.

“Optimus, don’t go to see the Decepticons today. That’s an order.” Ultra called, surprising Optimus from his silence argument with Sentinel.

“Sir!”

“I will overlook the,” Ultra Magnus looked at the vidscreen with a baffled look, not knowing quite what to call it. “I will overlook the Decepticon younglings I saw. And the fact two of them managed to bypass some of our best security systems. But Cliffjumper will notice them, and if you go to the Decepticons today, it will look suspicious. Whatever is going on can wait one more day.”

“Not sure you should overlook the younglings,” Sentinel muttered. 

“We’ve taken down Soundwave before.” Optimus resisted the urge to swat Sentinel over the head.

“He now has minions,” Sentinel almost whined. “And the Earth mechs are more Con than Bot at the moment.”

“They’ll manage,” Optimus murmured, confidant that it would work out. Ignoring Prowl, it always had solved itself in the end, and Prowl had been exceptional circumstances. “Jazz and the Jet-twins will be there soon. They’ll wrangle the younglings into line. Ratchet will enjoy the adult company.”

“Because the Jet-twins aren’t younglings?”

“And Jazz is any better.”

“Enough,” Ultra Magnus barked. “Optimus Prime, I want your word.”

“Fine, you have my word,” Optimus growled, but he could understand Ultra Magnus’s viewpoint. “I’ll go to the archive instead and see what research I can rustle up there.”


	16. Chapter 16

The archive was a vast place. The lower levels were opened to the public. Optimus had been many orns in the place as a student studying for exams and more. As a cadet, he’d snuck in while the others were out partying to learn more. It was a disgusting orange colour, but the wealth of knowledge contained in the place was worth putting up with the deco choice. Optimus had got two steps into the area before he was hustled into an elevator and sent to the higher levels.

The librarians didn’t want him causing a fuss. On the lower levels, the word was bound to spread about the hero of Cybertron being there. It disappointed Optimus that he couldn’t explore his old haunts as he wished, but he had enough of the press and public for a lifetime. 

He combed through the datapads, searching for any that felt right. Being stuck up in the high levels was more useful in that respect. Optimus was finding all sorts of books he’d only heard rumours of before. He read through them hungry for knowledge, curling in an alcove as he learnt about the Great War, and the one before that. Names, terms, events, he noted it down and searched for out for them. Names liked to repeat. His own appeared several times. That made sense, the algorithm that named them used words from all sources. 

“ _You’re an Optimus Prime._ ”

The giant in his dream had spoken as if he was one of many. It certainly seemed that way. The current Megatron was old; they were taught that early in the academy. He wasn’t the first Megatron, though. That was more interesting. How the previous Megatron died and how the current one came to be was blacked out, but they were different mechs. It looked like everyone who was in the original war had long ago passed into the well. Their souls waiting to be reincarnated. 

“Waiting, literally,” Optimus murmured to himself, as he put one datapad back and moved further into the library. If what he had seen was a vision and not some fever dream, they were waiting to be called to action again. 

Not everyone was falling into their old roles, though. There was no Bulkhead in the original war. Instead, Ironhide had been the original Optimus Prime’s bodyguard. All the stories suggested they were close and Ironhide always had Optimus’s back. They could trust each other implicitly. The current Ironhide was an afthead. He’d abandoned Optimus like everyone else when he’d been kicked out of the academy. Optimus knew he was part of Rodimus’s squad now, recovering somewhere from Cosmic Rust. Optimus was in no hurry to go see him again. 

There were other names he’d seen too that Optimus would never trust in a million years. He’d suspected Wheeljack was of interest, but Perceptor? The emotionless mech was one of the few Autobots Optimus was never likely to trust, at all. Removing someone’s emotions like that, even if it had been Perceptor’s own emotions; it was wrong. 

“I wonder,” Optimus looked down at the datapad he picked up and frowned. A lot of the stuff he was looking at had vast portions of redacted information. Searching for the term ‘Seeker’ had pulled up some things, but ‘trine’ had been blocked. Hopefully, the Decepticons would be more forthcoming about that information than the Autobots. Anything about ancient enemies who weren’t Decepticons had been blocked too. 

“Op?” Rodimus appeared by his side, a hand running along his arm.

“Yes, Rodimus?” Optimus drawled, switching his next pad on and skimming through the index. It was a study into the mannerisms of Seekers in romance fiction. The tropes and common traits that could suggest what a pre-war Seeker had been like. All modern Seeker behaviour was based on warframes mannerisms. 

He was scraping the barrel here. For the first time, the word trine was not censored.

“It’s getting late.”

“That’s fine,” Optimus shrugged, optics going over the first couple of pages: Sparkling protectors and saving carriers from abuse relationships; the most common layout of the trope. Seekers were once protectors of creches and schools. When coding had indicated how protective a mech was over sparklings, Seekers were at the extreme end of the spectrum. Ripping mechs and femmes far larger than themselves apart to defend a distressed sparkling or youngling. There was an image of a flyer, a Seeker, carrying a smaller mech, and it’s sparkling into the sky. Fabric danced behind them, giving it an oddly heavenly look. 

He tried picturing Starscream in the same pose, but it was too hard for his processor to comprehend. Starscream’s odd refusal to fight Bumblebee and Bulkhead once their ages were known would make more sense if this was the case, however. 

“You can’t stay here all night,” Rodimus coaxed, tugging gently. 

“I have plenty of times in the past. Unless the upper levels don’t allow that?” Optimus walked back to the where he’d make himself comfortable. A large sofa in an alcove that was big enough to curl up on and read in comfort. He fell on the cushions. The first few chapters covered the trope and the things that could be assumed from them. Things like how if a grounder didn’t have the coding to be protective of sparklings, Seekers would distrust them instinctively. A trine of seekers would take a carrier in need of help into their nest and look after them until the sparkling was born and better circumstances had been acquired. 

There was no information on how a trine worked or what one was. The index was off the tropes, there were no clues about trines in general. Through there was a chapter on being kidnapped by a trine due to an unexpected sparkling. Optimus was going to have to read the entire pad to harvest what little information could be gleaned from it. 

Rodimus stood next to him and grimaced, not sure what to do. “We don’t want you to stay here all night.”

“I don’t want to go back to those rooms. We can’t all get what we want,” Optimus shifted a cushion and curled his pedes underneath him. “I’ll go back in a few days.” When he didn’t want to purge at the idea of willingly opening his legs of their pleasure. Chapter 5 covered seekers falling in love with a grounder, forbidden, but passionate love. Seekers didn’t like sleeping outside of their frame type. Not even other flyers, through they were seen as more a causal fling that a betrayal of kin. 

“Please,” Rodimus murmured, sitting on the edge of the sofa. “Have you even refuelled today?”

“Of course,” Optimus snorted. “I’m not stupid. If I do anything that actively endangers the sparkling, the council will make me a proper breeder slave.” 

“Optimus!” 

“They wouldn’t lock me up in the room with my panels open?” 

He didn’t lower his voice. No one on this level would be spreading that around. The archive was emptying out at this time of the day. On the lower levels, the librarians would be hunting for students and kicking them out. Full-grown mech were welcome at any time, but younglings were supposed to return to their dorms and rest. Not that many of them did. It was a game with the librarians to see how long into the night cycle someone could hide before being discovered. A few more enterprising mechs went around with energon to sell to researchers lost in the stacks. He doubted anything like that happened on this level on this level.

“Ultra Magnus wouldn’t let them,” Rodimus declared, reaching over to grip Optimus’s servo. Big blue optic glazed into Optimus’s with sincerity. Rodimus honestly believed Ultra Magnus would stop them from doing that. “Sentinel wouldn’t, I wouldn’t. You’re a Prime.”

“And yet,” Optimus muttered, struggling to ignore Rodimus. He had calmed down from the night before. Lines, everything was about lines. They had respected his that morning. Now he needed to learn the new lines of this new life. Apparently, Rodimus thought binding Optimus in a berth for the rest of his existence was too cruel, but being forced to carry was not. Some would argue they were the same thing. “Rodimus, don’t be naive on me,” Optimus patted the sofa next to him, glancing at his pad to see what was currently on it. 

Chapter 7, Saviors: the MC saving a seeker from going insane from lack of flying by using fragging as a distraction. Sky hunger was deadly for seekers. Sunstorm's too bright optics crossed through his mind and how Ramjet was acting. He marked sky hunger on his list of terms to search and underlined it. 

Rodimus hesitated but curled up next to him. He leaned against Optimus’s plating lightly, not sure how close Optimus wanted him. Optimus let his arm wrap around him. “This place has the history of our kind. We are not as compassionate as our creed would make us out to be.” 

“The council reward loyalty,” Rodimus frowned, looking at the pad. “Thinking of taking up a career writing romance pads?”

Chapter 9, A flyers mistake. A non-Seeker flyer accidentally triggering a mating flight with a Seeker. The chapter was all about how flying in storms and high winds triggered core coding to take over. One trope involved a flyer entering Seeker airspace during a storm looking for shelter and by complicated means of mistakes and misunderstanding, ending up trined with two seekers. Sometimes the seekers themselves were annoyed by this predicament (return to Chapter 5 on how Seekers feel about bonding to a non-frame type) and the three of them would enter a bumpy courtship. Usually accompanied with rivals from the flyers past trying to save him from the Seekers and the Seeker’s flocks wanting the non-Seeker gone. 

“Looking for information on Seekers,” Optimus looked at the image of a flyer smaller than the seekers looking somewhat nervous as the two held him close, defending him from shadowy figures. “This is the first pad which doesn’t have huge sections blocked.”

“Romance must have been overlooked,” 

“Probably helped that the Seekers are all but extinct now,” Optimus hummed, ignoring how Rodimus shifted closer. The hold was friendly but beginning to shift to a more intimate hold. Not perverted, just closer than the average person would get close to each other. “Not many people look for information on them. Starscream is the last seeker, and now his clones will be the last ones. All the information we have about a frame type, culture and entire city is silly romance stories, and discussions about how true the traits in them can be.”

“Seekers aren’t the only frame type that’s been lost,” Rodimus said, servo flipping through the pad idly. “Praxian, Cassette and more. Between the wars and everything else, we’ve become one of two cultures, instead of one of many.” A mech was either Decepticon or Autobot, there was no grey in it. An Autobot might turn Decepticon, but they were still Autobot at their core. Blackarachnia was a good example. No matter how Con she wanted to be, the Elita inside of her would always come out.

“More like one of three. I wouldn’t say the Autobot nobles culture have much to do with the Autobot commoners one.”

Rodimus didn’t say anything for a moment, cuddling into Optimus. “Sentinel is calling, Optimus.”

Great. Just Great. 

Optimus opened a port on his wrist and let Rodimus jack in to connect the comm call between the three of them. The image of Sentinel appeared in his mind. The blue mech growled, looking directly at Optimus somehow. [Optimus, if I have to come to drag you out of the archives like we are cadets again, I will find the most embarrassing images I have of you and give them to the media!]

[Fine.] Optimus grumbled. That would be irritating on many levels. Sentinel would do it. There were bound to be a few that would make Optimus hide indoors for days. He certainly had a few of Sentinel that could be used as blackmail. [I want this datapad.]

[Then bring it. You’re in the harem now, just tell them Ultra Magnus wants it]

[Will do.] Optimus clicked off and unhooked from Rodimus carefully. “Let’s go tell the librarians, the great and powerful Ultra Magnus wants to be a rom-com author, shall we?”


	17. Chapter 17

No one tried to frag him that night. Sentinel kissed him, as did Ultra Magnus but other than that it was a relatively quiet night. Someone put a video on, and the four of them lay there watching it peacefully. It was oddly domestic. Hands petted at his panelling, but no one tried anything. Rodimus spent a lot of time curled between Ultra Magnus’s legs clutching Optimus’s arm. Optimus rested between Ultra Magnus and Sentinel, Sentinel supporting him as Ultra kept an arm around Sentinel’s back. It was comfortable. Warmth surrounded him and flooded his circuits as he let himself forget and bask in the moment.

He fell into recharge before the video was over. Bubbles of memories ran over his processor, all mixing up together until he heard the voice again. 

“Arise, Optimus Prime.”

He twisted, tangled in his own grappling hooks again as Megatron hung him from some lamppost, arm tied behind his back. The mech was too distracted by something else to kill him at that moment. He spun helplessly in the wind, praying for Prowl to show up and cut him down. The others would cut him down too, but they’d take pleasure teasing him about this. 

“Arise, Optimus Prime.”

“I’m hanging at the moment,” he growled. He needed to talk to Ratchet about some kind of release mechanism to stop this happening again. He kicked in the air, trying to find purchase on nothing. He swung from side to side uselessly. The scene shifted, and he fell to his knees, arms still bound behind his back, but he was at Dinobot island now. 

Grimlock was chasing a bird, declaring nature stupid in his T-Rex form. Swoop was mediating with Prowl to the side, and the other three were napping to the side. Something felt wrong. He twisted, looking around for signs of the voice as the world moved around him.

“You Optimus Prime looking for someone?” 

“I don’t know,” Optimus rolled over just in time to see Slag smacking his tail down where he had been lying. “Slag, stop!” He knew this mech was called Slag. Why was his name was a slur? Optimus had no idea, but some vague sense of humour bubbled from deep in his spark. “I’m not your enemy, Slag.”

“Me Slag no listen to stupid Optimus Prime.” The bot transformed into mech form, a smirk on his faceplates. The mech was giant like his brothers, broad and thick though not as big as Snarl. He shared a similar paint job to Snarl, a red torso with grey legs and arms but he had big yellow spikes on his shoulders. They were strangely shaped. Optimus cross-referenced the images of dinosaurs with the shape of the spikes and found them. Slag was a stegosaurus. Something in his spark pinged. That was wrong, wasn’t it? 

“Isn’t Snarl the Stegosaurus?” Optimus frowned as his processor and spark battled between each other. “No, wait.” This was confusing. He knew Snarl was the triceratops. He’d known the mech almost two stellar cycles; the mech had three horns and everything. 

The smirk turned sheepish. “Accident. We Dinobots strong, not so clever. Him Snarl now triceratops. Me Slag now stegosaurus,” he looked over at the triceratops longingly. Purple optics glinted enviously before returning to Autobot blue. Slag had an Autobot spark, but it didn’t stop him admiring strength above everything else. “Me Slag still stronger.”

“Arise, Optimus Prime.”

“Slag, did you hear that?” Optimus flinched, looking around for clues. Prowl and Swoop were both upsidedown doing handstands now. Grimlock stomped over to Snarl and Sludge, the ground trembling with every step. He collapsed on them with a loud crunching sound. Groans of pain came from them as they both fought to get out from the heavyweight of their leader. 

“Me Slag hear. Me Slag do not care.”

“Can you cut me free?”

“You Optimus Prime, leader. You cut yourself free,” Slag sniffed.

“I’m not…”

“Arise, Optimus Prime,” 

The ground dropped, and he plunged into darkness. He landed in the area he’d seen before with various mechs sitting about waiting for something. His grappling hooks whizzed back into his shoulders, and Optimus grimaced. He needed to talk to Ratchet. He looked around. A few mechs were gone, or possibly in a different area? Optimus didn’t know how this all worked. 

“Prime,” an Aerialbot waved at him. “Have you spoken to Ratchet and Wheeljack yet?”

“No,” Optimus shook his head. “There was a situation on Earth, and Ratchet was busy. Soon, I promise,” he walked over to look at what the mech was playing. It looked like chess, but the pieces were different. 

“There’s always a situation on Earth,” someone snorted. 

“Keeps things entertaining,” Optimus smiled at the mech. The mech was an almost painful shade of yellow and had a crane attached to his hand. “After vorns of maintenance duty on the space bridges, Earth was a joy to be based on. I hope I can go back soon.” 

“Ignore him, Prime. You’re just bitter Pipes got reincarnated before you, Grapple.”

“It’s _Pipes_. The mech is hardly the most vital member of the team,” Grapple complained, the other mechs around him ignoring him. Optimus kept his face neutral as the mech listed all the reasons Pipes shouldn’t have been called forth before him. A sigma that endangered himself being on top of the list, followed by a useless hobby and a lack of any reason traits past being solid blue being a close second and third. Meanwhile, Grapple claimed to be as good a builder as the Constructicons. Optimus listed dutifully, looking over the remaining collection of bots and cons. 

A few flyers were loitering about who were not the Aerialbots. So not all of the seekers had been reincarnated before Ratchet had destoryed the shiny box. For such a small space, it felt oddly empty. Most of the sparks waiting must have already been reincarnated like Pipes and a mech called Huffer who had more right to be sent back early than Pipes according to Grapple. 

“Hey, Grapple.”

“Yes, Optimus Prime?”

“Has Prowl or Blurr been here recently?” How did this all work? Were mechs forever blessed or cursed to come here in between lives? Or were the mechs here from the very first war? 

The mech frowned and shook his head. “They should be with you, shouldn’t they? They haven’t been here in a while. If they aren’t here, they are alive if you thought they were dead or something like that. I hope not, Bluestreak and Smokescreen got sent back recently trying to get close to Prowl. Sometimes the transition doesn’t work right.” He scratched his chin, “You may want to see if you can find them. If Prowl got himself brainwashed by Decepticons again, they could be in danger.”

“I suspect I know where Prowl is, they will be safe,” Optimus thought of the sparkling crawling over Jazz. Maybe once Prowl had made himself know again, Optimus could talk to him and find out if the new mechs were sparklings of the dojo. “Transition? Is that why Ironhide was the first Optimus Prime’s friend, but he’s not mine?”

“I would assume so. You don’t remember?” Grapple stepped up to him, leaning up close to study his optics. “You always remember. At least by the time the visions start. It doesn’t matter how often we all go through this, you remember.” 

“A black hole destroyed the Matrix last time,” One of the others pointed out. “The first time, they fixed it with new memories, but this time it was completely torn apart.” 

“That could make things difficult. You usually know what you have to do.”

“It’s been confusing,” Optimus said, rubbing his chest as a twinge when through it. He’d heard of the Matrix. It had been one of the artefacts granted to them at the dawn of time by the thirteen. One that rumours said had held the wisdom of the thirteen original Primes themselves. Only it had been destroyed long ago. The All Spark had been the final artefact, and now that too was gone, ignoring Sari. “I keep hearing ‘Arise Optimus Prime’. I’m not sure what it means?”

“Don’t look at us, we’re the lackeys,” Grapple shook his head. “Pipes got back before I did. They,” he gestured over to the others, a few who were complaining at the term. “Are a little more difficult to get reincarnated, but I should have been easy.” 

“You’re not lackeys,” Optimus said, not liking anyone think about themselves like that. By all rights, Optimus and his team should have been lackeys. They were a repair team, regardless of what their sparks had or hadn’t been and down in a previous life. They rose above that and proved them all wrong. “Everyone is important. Everyone had a role to play, something they can do that no one else can.”

‘Arise Optimus Prime.’

“Sounds like your time here is up,” Grapple snorted. “Stay safe Prime. Hopefully, I’ll see you on your side soon.”

“And don’t forget to tell Ratchet and Wheeljack to make us already!”

Darkness engulfed Optimus before he could reply. He drifted into the black, watching stars in the distance as he waited for the next thing to occur. 

“I don’t even know yet if Ratchet and Wheeljack know each other in this timeline,” he exhaled, rolling his shoulders and shifting his hips. They could or they could not, Ratchet had never mentioned Wheeljack. There were a lot of things Ratchet had never said. The old mech only brought things up when they were relevant to the situation. Wheeljack had helped make the Jettwins. Maybe he’d know how to make the Aerialbots. The more significant issue was how to bring it up the idea of creating five new mechs. And then there were the non-flyers waiting too. 

He twisted, seeing how much movement he had. His body moved like it was in liquid, comfortable but not without control. Below him, a metal planet floated in the black. It felt almost comical the fact he hadn’t noticed it straight away. 

Some shifted, and the planet flickered in and out of existence, each time reappearing different. Sometimes it was more damaged, sometimes with cities and roads mapping out the surface. The moons changed too, the number and sizes. Everything sped up until eventually the Cybertron Optimus knew was before him. One last flicker and it was back to the beginning again; No cities, no roads, no moons, just an empty metal ball. 

Then the same thing happened. This time cities appeared in different areas, though a few were the same. It built up again. Then a war ensued, and it was all gone. Smoke drifted from towers, and the lights were gone. Alien ships came from the stars, and a weapon from the planet surface wiped them out. 

And a wipe, repeating, each time slightly different. An army came to destroy the invaders. Cybertron was transported to another place. The Unmaker came. Not all of them were this realm. Some felt alien and wrong. The ships weren’t like anything Optimus had seen, and he knew, he knew not all he was seeing was home. So why was he being shown this? A few times the aliens won, most of the time the Autobots, or sometimes the Decepticons won. Yet it always went back to the beginning, to the empty planet, waiting to be populated. 

“A cycle. This is a cycle,” Optimus spoke out load, hoping Primus or whatever else was showing him this would reply and give more clues as to what was going on. “Has something gone wrong this time? Will the cycle not complete?”

No voice answered him, but a wave of spark deep pain ran through him. It wasn't the sparkling. This was something else, almost like when Optimus had plugged into another bot. It was not his pain. It was someone else's. A deep, weary pain that the being had endured for longer than time had existed. And a longing. A longing deep-seated in its being that could not be fulfilled.

“I can’t help if you don’t tell me what is happening,” Optimus yelled, feeling frustrated. Whoever was doing this was expecting Optimus to do something but what? What was he meant to do? “Do you want me to complete the cycle? Do you want me to break the cycle? What do you want me to do?”

“ _Till all are one_.”


	18. Chapter 18

Optimus woke up with a groan. Because that was helpful! Till all are one. The stupid thing was one of the most famous lines Primus had ever gifted to Alpha Trion. Grapple had been more useful. He, at least, had given some names for Optimus to look up. And revealed his suspicion that Prowl was live somewhere. Slag was a prick, same as Grimlock. The Dinobots were going to be as unpredictable as ever; he could feel it. Optimus was going to have to brawl the t-rex again once he got back to Earth. Assuming it was safe for him to do so.

He moved, tugging the thermal blanket up over his helm. Optimus wanted out. He closed his shutters and put his head against Sentinel’s chest plates. Rodimus was next to him, their backs touching as the orange mech snuggled into Ultra Magnus’s side. If he ignored his sensors telling him who was around him, he could almost imagine he was back at the academy. That Sentinel loved him, and together they loved Elita. Nothing was wrong. The council could be trusted, and the Decepticons were evil. 

“Op?”

Sentinel’s optics were low. It was early. The blue mech leaned down to kiss Optimus. The kiss gentle and soft. Mutters of something drifted between them, Sentinel’s processes not yet running at optimal as he came online. Optimus nuzzled him and kissed him again, pressing more into his heat. 

“Rest, it’s still early,” Optimus said, hands running along Sentinel’s side, tracing familiar paths. Their legs tangled together and a hand groped lightly at his aft. Pleased cooing sounds came from Sentinel. He skirted around access ports with pressure enough to tickle but not entice, pressing into a sensitive one with a touch more force. 

The mech flinched, grumbling at the action. An arm wrapped around Optimus and pulled him close for another kiss. Their legs tangled closer, and the kiss was deeper, more passionate. 

Optimus kissed back, arching his back as Sentinel ran his hand down it, pressing on his own sensory plates. He bucked a little harder than expected as Sentinel pinched some vulnerable wires, disturbing Rodimus. A hand flung over his waist, batting him in silent protest as the mech tried to stay asleep. Optimus grumbled, tugging on Sentinel’s wires in revenge. Sentinel chuckled on his lips. Pressing several light ones to his faceplates before he stopped moving, holding Optimus close. One arm around his waist, the other cushioned under their heads as they enjoyed the early morning cycle a little while longer. Optimus cuddled in comfortable but burning for something a little more than soft petting. 

Just a shame they weren’t alone or at the academy anymore. They weren’t at the academy and Sentinel was a very busy mech now. Optimus was less so, but he had his own stresses. 

Rodimus turned over, cuddling Optimus’s back and hand traces patterns on his hip. Optimus waited, almost able to feel the mech trying to word the question. Optimus wasn’t sure of the answer either. On the one hand, the council would be happier if Optimus was fragging the harem and Optimus was dimly aroused at the moment so it would make the thing pleasurable. On the other, there hadn’t been nearly enough time passed for Optimus to be willingly opening his legs for them. 

Sentinel’s field was amused, aware of what both mechs were doing. A kiss pressed to his forehead and Sentinel’s hand tangled with Rodimus’s, pulling it deeper into the crease between Optimus’s legs. Optimus let it happen. 

He was a little peeved off by how Sentinel was letting Rodimus off easy. But… servos parted and rubbed, not moving towards his latches. Sentinel’s servos actively blocked Rodimus from trying for them, but Rodimus got the hint fast. Charge built up as the two of them rubbed his groin, sending traces of friction up his frame but not quite fulfilling it. 

“Come on, let’s give a show,” Sentinel purred, kissing Optimus cheek before moving. Hands pulled Optimus along, and he was helpless to resist. 

Ultra Magnus was watching, optics dark with lust as Rodimus continued to explore between Optimus’s legs. Only now, Sentinel had them both sitting up, Optimus’s legs spread obscenely wide as Sentinel held him apart using his own legs. Embarrassment flared, but Sentinel skillfully kissed the emotion away as the blue mech was quick to read Optimus’s field. Rodimus rubbed and kissed his groin and thighs, dutifully not touching the latches. Optimus’s hips moved in circles and Sentinel’s servos teased his sides with charge. 

“I got you,” Sentinel promised, nipping at Optimus’s neck. “When you’re ready, Op,” Just open. 

Frag. It felt like Ultra Magnus’s glare was burning through him. He could say no. He could order Sentinel to let go of him. Make this another test of lines and limits and leave all four of them with revved up charges. Leave him with a revved up charge because even without him, the three of them could deal with it together no problem. Slag it all. 

Rodimus made an excited sound as there was a click and Optimus’s panel pulled aside. Sentinel reached down and stopped him from lavishing Optimus’s spike and valve with kisses.

“Easy, you don’t have permission yet, Rod,” Sentinel teased, nipping Optimus’s throat again. “You need to ask.”

Optimus groaned, elbowing Sentinel. Sentinel laughed, nuzzling against the crook of Optimus’s neck. It would be Sentinel who found a way to torture both Optimus and Rodimus. He shifted his hips, moaning as Rodimus kissed his thighs again. His spike was weeping with transfluid, and his value was cycling lubricant, desperate for something. Cold air breathed over the overheated components as Rodimus pulled back for a moment, studying Optimus. It was a sharp contrast, and Optimus moaned as his systems demanded he took care of this. 

“Sent!” The look of lust on both Rodimus’s and Ultra Magnus’s face was nerve-wreaking. They both wanted him.

“You wanted him to learn to ask.” 

Optimus did, not quite when he was already opened up and dripping and not protesting this state. Or maybe he did, and when his entire processor wasn't lost in pleasure and lust, he would be happy Sentinel did this. He doubted it at the moment. 

Rodimus leaned upwards and kissed Optimus’s chest plates as Optimus spluttered, not sure how to respond to that. Rodimus looked at him nervously but with an eager tint to his field. Another kiss was pressed to his cheek, servos dancing over his ports again. Optimus kissed back, hips pushing back against Sentinel’s, the blue mech as heated as he was. There was a touch of hesitation in Rodimus’s field as their lips parted. When no words came, Optimus leaned his head back on Sentinel’s shoulder as he wriggled in hips, panting. 

This was maddening. He was almost ready to deal with the damn charge himself. At least Ultra Magnus would get that damn show. 

Optimus reached down to do something, but a hand caught his, pulling it back as Sentinel quickly gathered his hands. Optimus whined but let it happen. Sentinel’s field was playful. He could trust Sentinel, mostly, probably, in this at the very least. Sentinel had never not made a frag pleasurable. 

“Rod, you’re being mean now,” Sentinel tutted, gently twisted Optimus’s arms back. 

“ _He’s_ being mean?” Optimus growled. He knew what Sentinel was planning here, and part of him should protest. Yet he gave his consent as Sentinel’s field pressed against his, the familiar cycle letting the thing go through. Sentinel knew him well enough to know when Optimus _wanted_. Rodimus and Ultra Magnus did not. 

“You complain too much,” Sentinel chuckled, his voice dropping a few tones deeper. 

Shivers ran through Optimus. A bead of lubricant ran down his panel. His valve was spiralling, searching for something to grab on to and pull into itself. At this rate, he’d be ready to retake Ultra Magnus without a stretcher this time. 

He tugged at his arms, but Sentinel kept a firm hold. It was a test of his flexibility as the mech pushed Optimus down, legs still trapped wide and his arms fastened behind him. It gave him a good scent of Rodimus’s parts as his head was position just right that if Rodimus opened… Optimus tugged lightly on the bonds and recognised it as fabric. Enough to keep him pinned and his hands away from his equipment, but nothing he couldn’t easily break out off if he wished to. Sentinel pulled him back up and peppered kisses to his shoulders as Rodimus rubbed at his thighs.

“But,” 

“For frag sake. Op, can I frag you?”

“You, sure,” Optimus said through gritted teeth, annoyed now. It was not hard to ask. 

Sentinel’s hands roamed over his plating, one wrapping around his spike and pumping it teasingly slow while the other circled his value. Still not entering. The desire to murder Sentinel slipped into Optimus’s field. Sentinel laughed again, pure joy in the sound and his fingers finally dipped into Optimus. 

“Well, your valve is hungry, isn’t it?” Sentinel purred. Optimus’s callipers pulled Sentinel’s servos deep into the slippery intake. Sentinel let them slide them all the way in to his knuckles before pulling them out again and stretching the wet valve open. The sound of liquid sloshing louder as Optimus whimpered. “Nice and wet. Begging for something to fill it.”

“Sentinel!”

“Love to see you’re as needy as ever,” Sentinel’s fingers slipped out and his panel opened. “Here, Roddy.” He offered his wet and lube covered servos out as his spike slipped up in-between Optimus’s valve opening Bumping but not entering as Sentinel rocked his hips back and forth. Or maybe it was Optimus doing that. He wasn’t sure anymore. 

Needy? Maybe he was needy. Sentinel had three lovers, one with an over-sized spike and what did Optimus have? A bunch of younglings who barged into his room so he couldn’t even use a toy and Con’s offering to frag him into oblivion. It was no wonder he’d fallen back into the berth with Sentinel. 

Rodimus looked at the servos a moment before sucking them, optics meeting Optimus’s as he licked each servo clean. Taking his time and swallowing dramatically as worshipped Sentinel’s digits. 

“Can I?” Rodimus murmured, field tentative but curious. 

“Do what?” Optimus challenged, tilting his head. He hissed as Sentinel shoved a few servos back into his valve and wriggled them. This time adding a third and fourth finger. Optimus grounded down on the servos and shook his hips. Sentinel pressed on that annoying bundle of circuits that would destroy his ability to walk. Optimus whimpered.

“Taste you?” Rodimus offered.

“That would be good. He’s good at it,” Sentinel nuzzled, hand lazily pumping at Optimus’s spike, giving enough pressure to entice but not to push him over. 

“You can taste,” Optimus allowed, moaning as Sentinel pulled out again.

Rodimus pressed his face into Optimus’s groin without hesitation. And oh! Sentinel wasn’t wrong. The mech knew what he was doing. Optimus lost himself to pleasure for a bit as Rodimus licked and sucked at his value, simulating it gorgeously. Optimus whined and moaned, Sentinel pumping his spike until eventually Rodimus stopped licking him out and started sucking him instead. 

Sentinel’s spike entered him, and for a while after, Optimus could register nothing but pleasure. The thick and familiar spike riding him hard, pulling in and out of him with a delightful burst of electricity and fiction. Pure, honest, joy overcame Optimus. He moaned freely, outright begging at times as Sentinel teased aching slow before pressing painfully fast. Whispers of praise-filled his audial as Sentinel hummed pleased at his performance. Teasing that he was made to take spikes beautifully. Calling him made for this. Promising to keep his greedy valve full and primed. Most of it was stuff Sentinel knew he enjoyed to hear when he was too lost in pleasure for his rational processors to protest. A few new interesting takes that Optimus was going to strangle the mech for when his processors were back in order.

He blacked out to the feeling of Sentinel filling him with transfluid, honestly not sure how long it had taken. Optimus was pretty sure he came into Rodimus’s mouth. Ultra Mangus watched it all, optic hungry and striping the shields from Optimus to see into his spark. 

Frag.

There was going to be no living with Sentinel after this. 


	19. Chapter 19

Optimus woke up with a pleasant ache in his valve and not covered in transfluid or lube. Someone must have cleaned him down while he recharged. He stretched for a moment before cuddling back into the warm plating of whoever’s lap he was sleeping in. Onlining meant acknowledging the world and right now, with his memory processors not yet engaged, he was content to float along. Everything was fuzzy and warm. 

There was a rumbling laugh. One Optimus felt through his plating more than heard. Hands petted his plating. It was nice. They didn’t go anywhere intimate or play with his ports. He winced as they touched a sore spot, and the hands rubbed at it. Soft pulses pressed down and massaged gently. Optimus’s engine purred content.

In was about a jour before Optimus’s processors finally forced his memory banks into action. He was in the harem. Most likely, Ultra Magnus was caressing him as he rested. He couldn’t feel Rodimus or Sentinel around, but his chronometer told him it was much later in the day. They both had duties to perform. Optimus had performed his duties for the day. He’d let someone pump him full of transfluid and offer the sparkling coding. The council wouldn’t want anything else from him today. 

“We need to teach Rodimus to ask for content,” Optimus murmured, sitting up and looking at the gentle face of his leader. 

“He doesn’t normally need to worry. He’s rather,”

“Easy?” Optimus offered. Rodimus had always admired mechs and enjoyed his fun at parties. Rodimus had run at the chance of interfacing the moment he had been old enough. It was one of the reasons Optimus had not enjoyed partying with him. The beginning was fun, and then Rodimus would disappear with whoever had caught his optic for the night. 

“That’s unfair.”

Optimus snorted. “He’s attractive and willing to frag fast. He isn’t normally the one doing the asking. Now he has to and doesn’t know how to. He’s too used to mechs dragging him into bed.”

There was a touch of embarrassment in Ultra Magnus’s field. “He’s very attractive. You are too. Very pretty,” Ultra offered, a hand rubbing Optimus’s thigh. “You put on a good show. I wasn’t expecting you to get along so well with Sentinel if I’m honest.”

“It won’t last long, I’m sure,” Optimus drawled, ignoring the large hand for now. It could be suggestive or even arousing, but his body was sated for the moment. His reproductive chambers were working in optimal He smiled hesitantly at Ultra Magnus, his field fluttering with uncertainty. “Sentinel feels guilty at the moment. He’ll be back to annoying the pit out of me as soon as I hint that I’m comfortable with this. For now, he doesn’t want to risk me doing anything extreme.” 

“He cares about you.”

Not enough to stop him being raped on orders of the council. “He does, and I care about him,” Optimus agreed, spark clenching at the thought of him. Their fields were syncing faster now, almost as fast as when they had been living together as cadets. Rodimus and Ultra Magnus would take much longer but Sentinel, well. 

“I’m sorry this happened, Optimus,” Ultra Magnus said, his voice soft but very sincere. “I know this isn’t what you wanted. I hope you can enjoy some of the upsides, however. Sentinel included.”

“Sentinel’s an upside?”

ULtra laughed at the honest incredulous tone. Sentinel was a good mech and many things, but few people would count being in a relationship with him an upside. Well, that was unfair. Sentinel was an excellent partner. He was loyal and worked hard to please his lovers in bed, not to mention fertile with how easily Ultra had knocked him up. People needed to learn to deal with his ego and constant need to nitpick, however. “He missed you greatly,” Ultra moved his hand to Optimus’s face and cupped it, bumping their foreheads together. “He was over the moon to see you again on Earth. He was worried when you went missing.”

Oh, Sentinel would never admit that, but Ultra had watched him check the report logs at the end of each day. Sentinel may never have read the Earth reports, but he always made sure they had been logged and not because of rules or restrictions. 

“Could have fooled me,” Optimus muttered, thinking back over that first reunion. 

“If you didn’t think so, why did you start fragging him again?”

Optimus heated up. He wasn’t sure why he had started fragging Sentinel again. The first time, he had been angry. Really, fragging angry and the responses in his processor had come down to two options. Punch Sentinel, or kiss him. The kissing led to Sentinel snarling and pushing him against a wall. Optimus had growled, and two of them had fragged hard. 

Ultra leaned back and rubbed Optimus thigh. “Just think about it, Optimus,” he smiled, his optics dim. The mech was tired. Optimus squeezed the hand and stayed with Ultra until he was recharging again. 

* * *

The journey to the prison was easy to make. Most of the guards along the way were used to seeing him make the trip. Above his head, he noticed as the jet twins span in the air, falling down next to him. 

[Optimus Prime, sir!]

[Hello!]

Optimus transformed and let the two younger mechs surround him with hugs. Both chattered away happily as they told him what they’d been up to and how they wanted to go flying with him again soon, but Sentinel had ordered them to Earth and they really really wanted to go back to Earth and not be hungry anymore. That last bit had Optimus’s spark tightening unhappily. He held them tighter for a brief moment before letting go and checking them over. The two accepting his inspection with little complaining. Jetfire’s orange was already dulling from his reduced energon intake. 

“Did Sentinel get your energon allowance fixed?”

“Not yet, Sir. Sentinel Prime promised he would though,” Jetfire grinned, bouncing on his heels. “Won’t matter on Earth.”

“No, I don’t suppose it will,” Optimus agreed, reaching out to Jetstorm to check his visor. There had been a crack in it last time. Ratchet would be less than pleased if the two reached him in less than perfect condition. It was fixed, but Optimus could see where the sealant had smeared. Not a high-quality one then. “How come you’re here?”

“We guard Decepticon scum while flying,” Jetstorm beamed.

“Creator Wheeljack wants us to guard clones while doing a test flight.”

Optimus nodded, a burst of hope in his chest. “Wheeljack is going to let Sunstorm and Ramjet fly?”

“We don’t know names, just clones?” Jetfire tilted his head, grabbing Optimus’s hand and pulling him along. They were almost at the facility, and it would be easy to slightly walk the rest of the way. “Do the clones have names? I thought clones just bad versions of Starscream.”

“Not wrong but they have been developing in their own mechs. We have Sunstorm and Ramjet here. Sunstorm is the one that compliments everything all the time and Ramjet is the liar,” Optimus explained. 

“Jetfire, Jetstorm!”

“Creator!” the twins jumped on Wheeljack hugging him not unlike how they had just hugged Optimus, snuggling tight for a moment. Wheeljack smiled fondly but gently pulled them off, doing his own inspection of his creations. 

“You’re late,” he scolded, rubbing a finger over Jetstorm’s visor and frowning. 

“Optimus Prime is here,” Jetfire singsonged, dancing back to grab Optimus and drag him forward to present him to Wheeljack. “Optimus Prime is a friend. You should always greet friends. Optimus Prime’s team will be looking after us on Earth.” He beamed at Wheeljack as Jetstorm took up at Optimus Prime’s other side. Almost like they were guarding him. Optimus looked at them both before looking at Wheeljack and shrugging. 

“A pleasure to meet you in person, Senator Wheeljack,” Optimus Prime greeted, saluting the senior ranking mech dutifully. 

“Likewise, Optimus Prime,” Wheeljack smiled at him, optics following Jetfire and Jetstorm’s movements. “The twins speak highly of you. I hope your new position is suiting you well.”

“You were one of the ones to vote for it?” Wheeljack looked surprised at the dark tone in Optimus’s voice. The twins shifted, Jetfire grabbing Optimus’s shoulder and pulling him back a step. “Twins?” Optimus frowned, looking at them. They looked confused at their actions too. 

“Optimus Prime is unhappy?” Jetstorm scratched his head. “Optimus Prime should be protected?”

“From Senator Wheeljack?” 

“Interesting,” Wheeljack hummed, stepping forward to look at Jetfire’s fire. “Might be a glitch in their priority matrix. We did have to mess with a few of the figures to ensure they would be loyal,” Wheeljack looked at Optimus again, eyeing him up and down. “I agreed the position was the right one for you. I disagreed on the time-line on which they should act. Ultra Magnus is stable. There is no reason the traditional courting could not happen.”

“Noted,” Optimus accepted the answer. That was fine. Wheeljack had not been one of the ones voting to have him raped by his superior and former friends then. 

“Optimus Prime! It is gloriously good to see your brilliant self today!” 

Optimus turned to see Sunstorm and Ramjet being led out, covered in chains and held by leashes. Ramjet looked more alive than the previous time he had seen the mech and Sunstorm was basically vibrating with excitement. Sunstorm stood as close to Optimus as the guards let him, hopping on one thruster to the other. 

“Good to see you too, Sunny. Ramjet, how are you feeling today.”

“Completely safe and not afraid at all,” Ramjet sniffed, eyeing up the chains on him and the spears of the guards warily. 

Jetfire let Optimus approach Sunstorm, though was quick to pull him back when one of the guards shifted their weapon towards Optimus. Sunstorm’s wing moved to block Optimus, and there was a strange moment of tenseness as everyone looked between the flyers defending Optimus and the mech who had pulled his weapon out. The other guards looked unsure which was the moment Optimus noticed Ramjet had moved to intervene too if something had happened. Jetstorms cannons were humming, and the air tasted of energon ready to be bled. 

“Well this is very interesting,” Wheeljack repeated, optics sparkling with curiosity as he looked between the four of them. “Lower your weapons. Optimus Prime will do nothing to hurt the clone. Sunny, was it?” he looked at the seeker for conformation. “You can move your wing.”

Sunstorm beamed at him and nodded but didn’t shift from his blocking stance. “Sunstorm, sir. And not until Autobot’s not aiming at Optimus Prime.” 

“We have been ordered to interfere if any unauthorised mechs attempt to interact with the prisoners, sir.” One of the guards said, sounding more like Perceptor than any mech with emotions had right too. “Optimus Prime is not authorised.”

“Optimus Prime is not to be harmed,” the Jet twins said in unison, the seekers humming in agreement. The optics of each flyer glowing brighter than normal. 

“Everyone, calm down,” Optimus murmured, reaching over to pat Jetfire’s shoulders. What the fuck was going on. “I’m fine. He’s not going to shoot me. Not while I’m Ultra Magnus’s.” He was pretty sure the council would have a fit if one of the prison guards shoot Optimus while he was in the earliest stages of carrying. 

“I will give Optimus Prime authorisation. I will also inform Ultra Magnus of who was about to shoot Optimus Prime if you are not careful.” Wheeljack warned, his happy and cheerful tone taking on a darker edge now. 

The guard hesitated but lowered the weapon. The flyers relaxed, and Sunstorm’s wing thumped Optimus’s shoulder in a friendly manner. There was another couple of minutes of chatting happily—both seekers more than looking forward to being in the air. Ramjet was introduced by name to Wheeljack. Optimus made sure to arrange to talk to Wheeljack once he was done with the seekers and Optimus entered the prison. Not at all convinced that the bit in the romance trope book claiming seekers wouldn’t tell before a spark had pinged was right at all. 

**Author's Note:**

> So while searching around I found two short stories based on a request from TFKink. I got to daydreaming and decided to try my own version. This is my first fanfiction in forever. Not sure how much I'm going to write but it's a little bit of a personal challenge. I hope people enjoy it.
> 
> [Also I suck at writing jerks. Sentinel's going to be less of a jerk than he normally is, though I shall try to keep some of it in there. I figure he's got to have some fondness left for Optimus. Somewhere in that spark of his. Let me know if he ends up too oc]


End file.
